


I'll Be Your Stone

by a_bit_of_madness



Series: I'll Be Your Stone [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting, Mutual Cooperation, Not Canon Compliant, Secret Relationship, informant draco malfoy, mediumburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bit_of_madness/pseuds/a_bit_of_madness
Summary: Inspired by the song Stone by Jaymes YoungStumbling upon Draco in his most desperate hour, Hermione Granger can't help but feel for him.  Behind the cruel facade, she can see the pain and sadness that threatens to consume him- the hollow look in his eyes suggesting that he's barely holding on.  And in an instant, she decides to help him.As business slowly turns to a friendship, and maybe more, the two students find a safe harbour in each other.  But Hogwarts can't last forever and war looms at the castle gates, eager to claim its first victims.





	1. A Beginning

Draco had never really agreed with Voldemort's order, not really.  He knew that Muggleborn witches and wizards were just as good as Purebloods- you didn't go to school with Hermione Granger for six years and not know she was smarter than the entire Ministry combined- and he'd never had a real problem with Muggles, but his parents had insisted that Voldemort was right and he'd had no choice but to accept that. 

Then He had risen and Draco had realized how wrong they really were- how deranged their master truly was- but his parents wouldn't listen.  They had let Him into their home, served at His beck and call, given Him anything He wanted- including their only son.  Draco had taken the mark after his father's imprisonment in an attempt to keep his mother safe, but deep down he knew it was a fool's errand.  The only way to truly save his parents was to ensure the downfall of the Dark Lord.

When he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, Draco knew he wouldn't be able to do it, he knew the Dark Lord was setting him up to fail so that He would be able to kill both him and his mother.  The assignment was nothing more than a punishment for Lucius' imprisonment, but if he failed his mother would die, and Draco couldn't let that happen. 

The day Hermione Granger found him in the Room of Requirement was the same day that his marble facade finally cracked.  His first attempt to kill Dumbledore had been an absolute train wreck, he'd only _found_ the cabinet the previous week and had yet to be able to open it, let alone fix it. He could barely sleep from his nightmares, and the soul crushing anxiety that plagued him every second of every day was starting to make him feel like he was going mad. 

“FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!” He screamed, blasting a stack of chairs to smithereens.

“You're a bit old for tantrums, don't you think?”

He hadn't heard the door open- he didn't even know anyone could _find_ the door when he was inside- and at the sound of her voice he turned and shot a bookcase at her.

Hermione barely even flinched as she flicked her wand to send it flying in the opposite direction.

“Well, that was uncalled for.” She huffed, hands on her hips.  “Honestly, use your damn words.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?” he growled.  “How did you even get in?”

“You don't own the room, Malfoy,” she rolled her eyes. 

“I got here first, I get the room!”

“Would you stop acting like a child?” Hermione snapped.  “It's embarrassing!”

“You know what, Granger, you don't know a thing about me or my life or really anything at all!  So why don't you just stick to what you know- being an annoying little bookworm!” Draco roared, fed up with her know-it-all attitude.

“That's exactly what I was trying to do," Hermione snapped. "So if you would kindly clear out, I'll get back to my books.”

“Forget it, I was here first!” Draco scoffed.  “And I have _far_ more important things to worry about than your ability to answer every bloody question in every bloody class!”

“Really?” Hermione demanded, her fists balled angrily and her eyes filled with fire.  “Well please, Malfoy, enlighten me.  What could possibly be so important that you would lower yourself to arguing with a mudblood, just to get your precious little room.”

“Well, let me see. Voldemort is holding my mother hostage and threatened to kill her and me if I didn't take the Dark Mark in my father's place. Upon taking that mark he tasked me with murdering our Headmaster- a task that, if not completed, will result in the death of myself and my mother.  I also have to fix this fucking cabinet, that no one has ever figured out how to fix, so that the Dark fucking Lord can get the rest of his followers in here to make sure that I get the job done. And if I don't, He'll kill me and my mother.  So I think my desperate attempts to save my mother's life are a good fucking reason, don't you?!” Draco breathed heavily, his face red from shouting and his fists balled like Hermione's.  Underneath all that anger, though, Hermione saw the desperation he was trying to hide, she saw the empty look in his eyes and her heart went out to him. 

Without giving it too much thought, she stepped towards him with her arms open.

“What are you doing?” Draco demanded, putting his hands out to stop her and taking a step back.

“It's called a hug, Malfoy,” she rolled her eyes.  “It's a gesture used to comfort someone when they're having what appears to be a nervous breakdown.”

Ignoring his uncomfortable protests, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her level.  When she felt his arms encircle her, she'd thought she'd be scared or disgusted, but that wasn't the case at all.  And when he started to sob, she didn't back away, she just held him a little tighter and kept quiet while he let out years of pent up anger and fear.

“It's going to be okay,” she said soothingly. 

When Draco was finally able to calm down, Hermione dragged him over to one of the room's many couches and forced him to sit.

“You need to go to Dumbledore,” she said matter-of-factly.  “He'll be able to help you.”

“Did you miss the part where I told you I'm supposed to kill him?!” Draco demanded.  “I don't think he'll take very kindly to knowing that- even if I have been absolute shite at it.”

“I think he'll be quite pleased to know that you'd rather not,” Hermione reasoned.  “People tend to like it when they find out someone _doesn't_ want to kill them.”

“Yeah, well I can't tell him,” Draco shook his head.  “ _He'll_ know, and then my mother will die.”

Hermione frowned at this, her face taking on the same expression it did when she was working on a difficult potion. “So if you don't get the cabinet working, He'll kill your mother and probably you,” she said slowly.  “And if you don't kill Dumbledore, He'll definitely kill you both.  It sounds like He just wants to kill you.”

“That's because he does,” Draco sighed. 

“Why don't you just leave?” Hermione asked, seriously confused.  “The Order would help you, they would find you somewhere safe.”

“My mother will never leave the Manor, and my father will never stop believing that the Dark Lord knows best,” he shrugged helplessly.  “They're all I have, though, I can't leave them.”

At this, Hermione fell silent again, her brow furrowed as she thought about his situation, studying him like he was a new edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'.

“I'll help you.” She finally said, thoroughly determined.

“Excuse me?” Draco looked at her like she had lost her mind. 

“With the cabinet,” she elaborated.  “I'll help you to get it working again.”

“Because you've suddenly decided to join the Deatheaters?!” he gaped at her.

“No, because you quite obviously don't want to be a part of this, and I think I can help with that."

“Granger, that's insane,” Draco shook his head.  “You can't help me.”

“Malfoy, have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.  

“Why would you help me?" Draco ignored her question. "We're not friends.”

“Yes, you've made that abundantly clear over the last six years,” Hermione assured him sarcastically.  “But I happen to believe that you don't actually want to have any part in this and want to do the right thing, and I'm willing to help you with that.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Draco rolled his eyes.

“I'll make you a deal,” she shrugged.  “I'll help you with the cabinet and in exchange, I'll pass information you give me to Dumbledore, to pass to the Order. Maybe they'll be able to offer your mother a bit more protection while you're here.”

She was insane.  Completely, absolutely, certifiably insane.  There was no way that she would do this for him- not after all the years he had spent torturing her. 

And yet, here she was, sitting next to him with the most sincere look on her face. 

“Do you want to make a wizard's oath?” She offered, completely serious.  “I'm not kidding, Malfoy.  Let me help you.”


	2. Chapter 2

They started work the next night, tiptoeing around each other and mostly avoiding any and all contact for the first month. As more and more days stacked up when neither of them had tried to kill the other, though, the ice slowly began to thaw.

* * *

 

“Stop it.” Draco ordered, not looking up from the charm work he was performing on the cabinet.

“I'm not doing anything,” Hermione argued. She was sitting on the floor a couple feet away, trying to decipher a series of runes they'd found on the bottom of the cabinet.

“You're watching me.  It's creepy.”

“I'm not watching you,” she rolled her eyes.  “I'm thinking.”

“Well, feel free to share with the rest of the class,” he drawled.

“It's just weird,” she shrugged.  “I mean, we spend every night together and we're doing this huge thing, but we barely know anything about each other... it's just kind of crazy when you really think about it.”

“Alright,” Draco threw his hands up and dropped onto the floor beside her.  “Have at it, Granger.  What do you want to know?”

“What?” Hermione frowned at him, setting aside her rune dictionary.

“You're right.  We barely know anything about each other, even though we spend all our free time together.  So, whatever you want to know, have at it.” He put his arms out, as if to make himself a target. 

Hermione pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “What's your favourite colour?” 

“Sorry?” Draco frowned.

“What's your favourite colour?” Hermione repeated.

“ _That's_ what you want to know?” he asked skeptically. 

“You said anything,” she shrugged. 

Draco shook his head, a disbelieving smirk on his face. “Blue. My favourite colour is blue.”

“Like, Ravenclaw blue?” 

“More like the blue in the Puddlemere United logo,” he specified.

“Are they your favourite team?”

“Since I could walk,” Draco nodded.  “What about you?  Favourite colour.”

“Purple,” Hermione answered readily.  “Dark purple, like the colour royalty used to wear.”

“How very aristocratic,” Draco smirked.  “I would ask your favourite Quidditch team, but I know you could care less about the game.”

“That's not true!  I've seen every game Harry's ever played in- and the ones that he's missed,” Hermione defended herself.

“It doesn't count if you bring a book,” Draco scoffed.

“There's no rule that says that,” Hermione insisted.  “And he's never complained.”

“That's because he's rather dense.”

“Hey,” she raised an eyebrow in warning.

“I'm just stating a fact,” Draco shrugged.  “You and I both know that he wouldn't be able to find the toilets without you there to help him.”

“You know, we were having a perfectly civil conversation,” Hermione huffed, making to pick up her dictionary once again.

“Okay, okay,” Draco held his hands up in apology.  “Um... what's your favourite food?”

“Pasta.  It doesn't matter what kind, I'll eat it all.  You?”

“Bread pudding.”

They went on like that for almost a month, filling the silences with mundane questions about each other, slowly learning about each others' childhoods, likes and dislikes, hobbies and tastes. And slowly, very slowly, something like a friendship began to form. 

* * *

 

“If only it had been a wardrobe instead of a cabinet,” Hermione sighed wistfully one night. 

“Is there really a difference?” Draco asked in a bored tone.

“Of course there is," she scoffed. "One would have fulfilled a childhood dream, the other is just a boring old cupboard.”

“Your childhood dream was to spend your every waking hour worrying about fixing a useless and, quite frankly, ugly antique?”

“No, Malfoy,” Hermione glared.  “I wanted to find a magical wardrobe that would transport me to a far off land.”

“You had a rather active imagination as a child, didn't you Granger?” Draco smirked.

“Don't be a prick,” she chided.  “There was a muggle book series that I read when I was little, about a magical wardrobe that transported a girl and her siblings to a far off magical land, and I always wanted to find a wardrobe like that.”

“Well in that case,” Draco got to his feet and gave her a deep bow, gesturing comically to the cabinet.  “Your wish is granted.  Use the next two wisely.”

Hermione laughed despite herself, shaking her head at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.

“Hang on, what do you mean 'two more wishes'?” she frowned after a minute.

“Are you not familiar with the concept of a genie, Granger?” Draco asked sarcastically.

“I'm perfectly familiar with the concept,” she assured him.  “I'm wondering how _you_ are.  Genies are muggle folklore, they don't have a wizarding equivalent.”

“I'm aware of that,” Draco assured her.  “I'm not as sheltered as I appear, Granger.  I've read my share of muggle novels.”

He wasn't looking at her, but Draco could tell by the silence that she was completely shocked.

“Don't look so surprised,” he drawled.

“You're not even looking at me!”

“That's how palpable the surprise is."

“Well, can you blame me?” she asked.  “The great Draco Malfoy, pureblood of all purebloods, admitting that he's read classic muggle literature?  It's a bit shocking.”

“I was going through a rebellious phase," he shrugged. "Besides, that's no more shocking than the great Hermione Granger helping a Deatheater.”

“Don't call yourself that!” She snapped, making it Draco's turn to look surprised.  “And don't give me that look.”

“You're not even looking at me.” Draco echoed her earlier statement, though his voice held a hollow tone.

“I think we've spent enough time together in the last two months that I know what your face looks like,” Hermione rolled her eyes.  “You may be a stuck up, annoying prick that I want to punch in the face on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you call yourself by that dreadful name.”

“Why?” he scoffed.  “It's true.”

“It's not!” Hermione insisted sharply. 

“ _This_ would beg to differ.” Draco sneered, ripping his sleeve open dramatically to bare the Dark Mark on his arm.

“Oh please,” she sniffed. “That's nothing more than some magically imbued ink.  You're no more a Deatheater than I am.”

She said it with such conviction, as though she had never even thought twice about whether or not it was true, and then she simply turned back to analyzing the cabinet, as if she hadn't just turned Draco's entire life on end. 

“Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the night, or are you going to help?” She called over her shoulder.  “Because if I get this working without you, you'd better believe I'm going to take the credit for it myself- fuck the Dark Lord and his tasks.”

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he joined her- Hermione couldn't help but notice how much she liked seeing him smile. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Did you have a favourite?” Hermione asked, completely out of the blue.

“Excuse me?” Draco frowned, not looking up from the notebook he was scribbling in.

“The other day,” she tried to explain herself.  “You said you weren't as sheltered as everyone believed and that you've read Muggle literature.  So, did you have a favourite?”

“Oh,” Draco fiddled with his wand uncomfortably.  “Um, yeah.  _A Tale of Two Cities_ by Charles Dickens.”

“Oh, I love that one!” Hermione grinned.  “I learned to knit because of Madame Defarge.”

“Of course you did,” Draco chuckled.  “So, what about you Granger?  You have a favourite classic?”

“It's changed a few times over the years, but right now I think I'd have to say _War and Peace_ by Leo Tolstoy.”

“Not _Anna Karenina_?”

“I liked that one too,” she allowed.  “But I found _War and Peace_ far more interesting.  _Anna Karenina_ always just seemed so... gossipy.”

“And _War and Peace_ wasn't?” Draco scoffed.  “Half of the book is about the love triangle between Anatole, Natasha, Pierre and Andre.”

“A triangle only has three sides,” Hermione corrected.  “It was more like a love hexagon- especially if you remember Helene and Andre's first wife and Anatole's wife.”

“You realize you're just making my point for me, right?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” she bit back a smile.

* * *

“Right, one more time,” Draco shook his head, a confused look on his face.

“They're called films, or movies. It's like a play, but instead of being on a stage it's recorded with a special device so that you can watch it anytime you like,” Hermione explained for the fourth time that evening. 

“And you watch it on a PVR?”

“A VCR,” she corrected.  “Yes.  You put a tape, which holds the film, into a VCR and then it plays on the television.”

“And then you can enjoy it whenever you like, without having to go out and get dressed up?” Draco confirmed.

“Exactly.”

“Why haven't wizards worked that out?!” he demanded.  “It would be brilliant!  I'd never have to go to the theatre again.”

“Oh, yes, you were _so_ hard done by!” Hermione scoffed.  “Having to go to the theatre and see brilliant productions for your entire life.”

“It loses its charm after a while,” Draco assured her.  “Almost immediately, in fact, when you're being dragged there at five years old.”

“Five?!”

“Just like a good little pureblood,” he smiled sarcastically.

“I suppose I understand your aversion, then,” she allowed.  “I doubt you were the kind of five year old that would enjoy sitting still for very long.”

“Really?  What kind of child do you think I was, Granger?” Draco asked, eyebrow arched suspiciously.

“Presumably the kind that made everyone around you want to pull their hair out,” she smirked.

“Well then!” 

“Of course I'm only going off of what I can see now," Hermione continued. "I usually want to pull my hair out when we're in the same room.”

“Yes, I can tell.” He nodded to her hair, which was currently tied on top of her head and sticking out wildly.

“Alright, what kind of child _were_ you?” Hermione challenged, choosing to ignore his comment.  “And don't try to tell me you were well-behaved, because there's not a chance in hell that I'll believe you.”

“I had my moments!" Draco argued petulantly. "Granted, they were few and very far between, but I'm sure my mother could come up with a few.”

“They don't count if you were asleep.”

“Oh,” his face fell.  “In that case, you're right, I was a horrid child.  The House Elves hated me.”

“Were you really dreadful to them?” Hermione demanded, already preparing a lecture in her mind.

“No, of course not,” Draco shook his head quickly.  “Not every pureblood abuses House Elves.”

“Really?” she didn't look convinced.  “Because as far as I've seen, it seems to be the norm.”

“For my father's generation, sure, but not everyone is like that," he insisted. "The House Elves were the only friends I had when I was small.”

“Friends?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Well, not friends maybe,” he allowed.  “But they were my playmates- and caretakers when my mother wasn't around.”

“I'd bet they wanted to thrash you more than they wanted to play with you."

“Probably,” Draco laughed.  “Although they didn't need to usually.  I was quite adept at getting myself bruised and battered without their help.”

“Bit of a klutz, were you?” Hermione smirked.

“Oh, and I suppose you were the epitome of grace at five?” he scoffed.

“Not at all,” she shook her head.  “I was horribly clumsy.  I tripped over my own feet all the time, and I  seemed to be permanently bruised- a trait which I still haven't outgrown.”

“And were you a troublemaker, Miss Granger?” 

“What do you think?” she laughed.  “I sat quietly with my books most of the time.”

“Shocking!” Draco pretended to be surprised.  “What did you do for fun?”

“I sat quietly with my books," Hermione repeated. "I didn't really have friends- and I certainly didn't have elves to play with.”

“What do you mean you didn't have friends?  Who wouldn't want to be friends with you?”

“ _You_?” 

“Well, I obviously saw the light, didn't I?” Draco waved around them self-explanatorily. 

“If that's how you'd like to see it,” Hermione shrugged.  “It's certainly not how anyone back home did.  I was just the odd girl with wild hair and big teeth.”

Draco winced at this, remembering all the times he had mocked her for those exact things.

“It didn't bother me,” she backtracked quickly.  “Not much, at least.  It's just how things were.  I was different and the other children didn't like it.”

“So you made friends in books,” Draco nodded.  

“Exactly.  I remember, the first time I read Matilda, I felt like I'd found a kindred spirit,” Hermione smiled wistfully.

“Matilda?”

“It's a book about a little girl who's incredibly smart, she reads everything she gets her hands on, and she plays practical jokes on people who are mean to her,” she explained.

“I get the bookworm part, but practical jokes don't seem like your style,” Draco frowned. "I mean, maybe now, but you were rather straightlaced when you first got to Hogwarts."

“That wasn't why I loved her so much,” Hermione smiled warmly.  “She could make things happen with her mind.”

“Like you could.” Draco nodded in understandingly, smiling along with her. 

“I figured I couldn't be so very odd, if someone had thought to write a book about a girl who was just like me.” Though she was still smiling, there was a sadness that had creeped into her voice, making the corners of her mouth quirk ever-so-slightly downwards.

“You're not odd,” Draco said quietly.  “There's nothing odd about being different from everyone else.  It's what makes you, you.  And anyone who gives a damn about you wouldn't want you to change a single thing.”

“Well that certainly isn't true,” she scoffed.  “There are plenty of things Ron would change about me, he tells me on a regular basis.”

“That's because he's too stupid to know how brilliant you are.  Believe me, if he had any brains to spare, he'd see how good he's got it with you in his life,” Draco said firmly.

An awkward silence fell between them, neither one willing to meet the others eyes, and they quickly turned their attention back to the cabinet, filling the rest of the evening with the occasional muttered spell and the scratches of quill on parchment. 


	4. Chapter 4

Things went south when Draco's second attempt to kill Dumbledore resulted in Ron's being poisoned.  Those were the only things he refused to tell Hermione about- he didn't want her feeling guilty or culpable should he succeed, or worse, should he kill the wrong person. 

He hadn't expected her to come to the room that night- or any other night, after what he'd done- but she did.  She stormed through the door at half past midnight and he could see the anger radiating off of her. 

As soon as she shut the door, Draco was on his feet, a desperate look on his face. “Granger, I-” 

“No!” She held up a hand to silence him.  “Don't speak!  Don't say a single, bloody word, Draco Malfoy.  Because if you say the wrong thing, I might kill you here and now, so you are going to be very quiet right now, do you understand me?!”

He nodded, wringing his hands and staring at the floor miserably.

“Gods, Draco, what were you thinking?!” Hermione continued to rant, pacing back and forth in front of him.  “I thought we talked about this, about how you were going to put that aside for now and just focus on the cabinet.  What happened to that, huh?!”

Draco dared to glance up at her, not sure if she was actually asking or if he was still supposed to be quiet.

“And why the fuck would you give it to Slughorn?!”

Apparently it was still quiet time.

“What could possibly make you think that he would give up an expensive bottle of Mead?!  You weren't thinking, obviously, because if you had been you'd have realized that all that man cares about is how people perceive him, he keeps the best of everything for himself!  Why didn't you tell me you were going to try again?!  I would have helped you make sure that no one else got hurt!”

“I-”

“SHUT UP!”

Draco's mouth snapped shut

“Gods, this is a mess!  Ron almost died, Draco, do you get that?!  If Harry hadn't acted so quickly, he would be dead!”

“So when should I expect the Aurors?” Draco asked emptily, fully expecting that he would be in Azkaban before morning.

“Fuck you,” Hermione sneered. 

“What?” Draco's head shot up to look at her, a confused frown replacing the look of remorse he'd previously had, ignoring her order to keep quiet.  “I cock up, almost kill your boyfriend who is now in the hospital wing, and you expect me to believe you didn't tell them who it was?”

“No, I didn't tell them!  If I had, you wouldn't be here, would you?  And do you really think after the last two months, that I would just suddenly turn my back on you?  God, Draco, what kind of a person do you think I am?!” Hermione seethed.  

“Nobody would blame you if you did,” he shrugged.  “It's not like you need to waste your time worrying about me.”

“Of course I'm worried about you, you clot!" She shoved him angrily, forcing him back a step. "You're my friend!  And Ron is _not_ my boyfriend.  He's made it perfectly obvious that he belongs to Lavender- which is completely besides the point.”

“So what is the point?” Draco asked, wishing she would just get it over with and tell him to drop dead.

“The point,” Hermione snarled, stepping up so that they were almost nose to nose.  “Is that you should have talked to me!  That's what friends do when they have a problem, they share it with the people who care about them!  They ask for help!”

“What exactly did you want me to do, Granger?” Draco demanded, his own temper rising.

“I wanted you to talk to me!” She shrieked, hitting his chest in anger.

“Yeah, because that conversation would have gone over so well,” he scoffed, not even flinching from the blow.  “Hey, Hermione, I'm going to try to murder someone again, have you got any pointers?”

“We could have thought of something else!” she insisted.

“No we couldn't have!” Draco snapped.  “There was nothing else, Hermione!”

“Why?!”

“Because He knew!  He knew that I wasn't completing the task, I didn't have a choice!”

All the anger he'd just been filled with left him as he shouted, his arms falling helplessly to his sides as he stepped back from her, a hollow look in his eyes. 

“The Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting,” he muttered, starting to pace.  “He thought I needed some... persuasion.”

“Draco.” Hermione reached for him, but he put a hand out to keep her at bay.

“Why didn't you say anything?” She asked, her tone far softer as her own anger began dissipating.

“You've taken on enough of my burdens,” Draco shrugged weakly.  “I couldn't involve you in this too.”

“I volunteered to be involved,” Hermione argued.  “I _chose_ to be here, to help you.  I can't do that if you keep things from me.”

“I'm not going to implicate you in murder!” Draco cried.  “I don't think friends do that either!”

“That's not the point!” She screamed, anger rising once again.  “Gods, Draco!  I could have done something!”

“No, you couldn't!” He shook his head, begging her to understand.  “He brought Greyback to live at my house.”

This silenced her immediately, her face a mix of shock and terror.

“Did he-”

“Not yet,” Draco shook his head, not wanting her to say the words out loud.  “Not if I made a serious attempt.  So that's what I did.”

He dropped into the closest chair and put his head in his hands, letting out a ragged breath.

Hermione didn't move, simply watching him for a moment, the way his shoulders shook with each breath and how his hands tugged at his hair.  It was like the last two months hadn't even happened, like she had just stumbled into the room for the first time again.

“Draco.” She sighed anxiously and knelt in front of him, placing her hands on his knees.  “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” He laughed maniacally, though there was nothing funny about the situation.  “I'm the one who almost killed someone- again.”

“I'm sorry that you've been keeping all this in. I wish you had told me.”

“I'm glad I didn't," Draco held firm. "I know that you want to help, but I can't let you- not with this.”

They sat quietly for a long time after that, Draco with his head in his hands, Hermione kneeling in front of him, studying him closely.

“Is Weaselbee okay?” he finally asked.

“That's not his name.” Hermione chastised him, though there was a mocking tone to her words.  “But yes, he's going to be fine.”

“Good,” Draco nodded. “That's good.  I really didn't mean to hurt him- or anyone.”

“I know,” she squeezed his knee reassuringly.  “I know you didn't.”


	5. Chapter 5

In the weeks following Ron's poisoning, Draco had begun tiptoeing around Hermione once again, not wanting to anger her or give her a reason to hate him more than he was already convinced she did.  Hermione on the other hand, was having none of this, and began pushing any and all boundaries they had silently agreed to in the previous months- if Draco didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was flirting with him.  That was ridiculous, though, because she was Hermione Granger and he was Draco Malfoy.  Even if she _had_ decided that they were going to be friends, she certainly didn't have romantic feelings for him.  She was so far out of Draco's league the thought was laughable, but that wasn't going to stop him from copying her behaviour- a little innocent flirting never hurt anyone, after all. 

* * *

 

“I got you a present.” Hermione announced, skipping into the room under Harry's invisibility cloak.

“You don't even know how creepy it is when you speak before you take that damn cloak off.” Draco huffed, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from. 

“Trust me, I'm perfectly aware,” she laughed, slowly appearing in the exact opposite corner that he had been watching.  “It's worse when it's a floating head.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Draco frowned.

“Good call.  Now, like I said, I brought you a present.” Hermione handed him a package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“What is it?” Draco asked, turning the package over in his hands curiously. 

“It's a paper bag,” she rolled her eyes.  “Hope you like it!”

Draco's lips pressed together into a thin line, his eyebrows raised in annoyance. Hermione waved at him to hurry up and open it, turning her attention to the runes she had started working on the night before as he did.

“Huh, its a journal.” Draco nodded appreciatively, turning the book over in his hands. 

“Mmhm."

“It's a very nice journal,” he continued. It was bound in a beautiful Slytherin green leather and engraved with his initials.

“ _Thank you, Hermione, for this lovely gift._ ” Hermione quipped sarcastically. 

“Yes, of course, thank you,” he joined her at the cabinet.  “I'm just wondering why?”

“Because that's what friends do,” she answered simply.

Draco leaned against the cabinet with his arms crossed, giving her a disbelieving look.  Hermione did her best to ignore him, but every second that she pretended he wasn't there, he inched closer. 

“Hovering is going to get you nowhere.” She chewed her lip, trying not to smile.

Draco only inched closer in response, not making any attempts to hide his own smile. “Come on, Granger.  What's with the notebook?  You want to pass dirty notes back and forth?”

“I do not pass dirty notes,” Hermione scoffed.

“That's just because you haven't found someone to pass them with,” he reasoned suggestively. 

“Draco Malfoy, I am not above hexing you,” Hermione threatened, though he knew that they were empty words.

“Oh, I know.” He smirked, slowly stroking her arm with one finger. 

“If you must know,” Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, still trying not to smile.  “I _did_ get you the notebook so we could pass notes- but if said notes are in any way filthy, I _will_ hex you.”

“See, I knew you'd break!” Draco took a step back, grinning victoriously.

“I'll take it back if you're going to be like that,” she reached for the journal, but Draco held it above his head. 

“Ah, ah, ah.  It's bad form to take a present back.”

“Not when the recipient is acting like a child,” she argued.  “In that case, the responsible adult in the room has the right to take said gift away.”

“And who said that you were the responsible adult?” 

“Well it's certainly not you!" Hermione scoffed. "Now, would you like me to explain the intricate and exceptional magic that I've imbued that lovely journal with, or would you like to continue being a child?”

“Hmm...” Draco pretended to think for a minute.

“You know what, now I'm not going to tell you,” Hermione shook her head.

“No, no, no, wait!  I want to know about the magic!” Draco backtracked quickly, an eager look on his face.

“Sorry,” she shrugged.  “Snooze you lose.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's a muggle saying, and you understood what I meant perfectly.  Now, help me correct these runes.”

“But-”

“I will do it by myself and I will take it to the noseless wonder  myself,” she threatened.

“Noseless wonder?” Draco snorted.

“It was the first thing that popped into my head,” she shrugged.

“We need to work on your insults, Granger.”

“No, we _need_ to work on this cabinet."

“It's waited this long, it'll keep another hour.” Draco reasoned, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her towards one of the many sofas in the room.  “Now, tell me about this incredible magic journal.”

“Make it worth my time,” she challenged cheekily.

“I brought you an eclair.” He summoned a container from the other side of the room and held it out to her enticingly.

Hermione studied him for a moment, not completely buying what he was selling, then snatched the container from his hand and took a bite of the chocolate covered pastry, humming in satisfaction.

“Okay, that's worth it,” she agreed.  “That particularly lovely journal in your hand has a twin of sorts, which allows communication between the two.”

“So you _do_ want to pass dirty notes,” Draco smirked. 

“No, but you obviously do,” Hermione reasoned, giving him a disapproving look.

“I'm just reading between the lines.”

“You're in a completely different book,” she scoffed.  “Now, can we please get back to work?”

“Not yet,” he shook his head.  “You say this has a twin?  Does that mean that you have an equally beautiful red leather notebook?”

“No, I'm not stupid,” she rolled her eyes.  “Mine looks like every other notebook I've ever used.  You're  too much of a drama queen to have something so plain, though.”

“How well you know me,” Draco grinned.  “So, what?  I just scribble something in here and it magically appears in your book?”

“In the simplest of terms, yes.”

“The simplest of terms?  What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means I'm using small words so that you'll understand.” Hermione patted his knee patronizingly and got to her feet, ignoring his protests that he was just as smart as she was as she went back to work on her runes.

* * *

Their note passing started in double Arithmancy the next week, when Hermione noticed Draco falling asleep across the aisle from her.

_Last I checked, sleeping through classes wasn't the best way to pass._

As soon as the words appeared in front of him, Draco sat up a little straighter and did his best to hide his smirk.

**I was simply resting my eyes**

_Sure you were, Malfoy_

**Well keep me awake then, Granger.**

_Excuse me?_

**Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm not being suggestive.  Not like that at least, I'm suggesting a game.**

_You're always being suggestive.  Desert Island?_

**Would You Rather**

_On you go, then_

**Would you rather have bright blue teeth, or bright blue hair?**

_Hair, obviously.  It's the latest fad_

**Maybe if you're a Weasley**

_Would you rather jump into a pool of marshmallows or a pool of jell-o?_

**What in Merlin's name is jell-o?!**

_Oh, you poor little wizard boy.  Jell-o is one of mugglekinds most disgusting and delicious inventions_

**Those are not selling points Granger!**

_Of course they are, you've just had a silver spoon shoved in your mouth since birth and don't know what the best things in life really are._

**You try saying that after you've tried caviar.**

_God, you're a snob!_

**I'm well aware.  Would you rather snog Potter or Weasley?**

_A Weasley, no questions asked._

Hermione smiled to herself as she heard Draco choke at her answer, trying to disguise it with a cough.

_I didn't specify which Weasley, so you can wipe that self satisfied smirk off your face_

**I am not smirking**

_You're smirking on the inside, I know you._

**That you do, Granger.  So, how about you _get_ specific- which Weasley???**

_You don't seem eager to learn the answer to that at all_

**Sarcasm doesn't become you Granger.**

_Yes it does._

**Don't avoid the question.  Which Weasley are you planning to drag into a broom closet?**

_Have you ever seen the eldest brothers?  I'd take any of them- Ginny's not bad either._

Another series of coughs told Hermione that she had more than entertained Malfoy, so she closed her notebook with a victorious smirk on her face and turned her attention back to the lesson, leaving Draco to squirm in his seat, paying even less attention to Professor Vector than he had been before.


	6. Chapter 6

“You never talk about your parents,” Draco pointed out one night before Easter holidays.  “You've told me all about your childhood and going to school and getting your letter, and I've told you all about my life before now, but you never mention your parents.”

“I've mentioned them,” Hermione shrugged. 

“In passing,” Draco allowed.  “But not really.  I don't even know their names.”

He waited for her to explain, to give him a long-winded tale of how they had met and what they did for a living, but he was met with silence.  When he looked over he saw the she had frozen mid-spell, her wand hanging limply in her hand.

“You alright?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“Yeah,” Hermione shook her head quickly, forcing a smile.  “Yeah, fine. I was thinking, we should try to get into the restricted section and see if there's anything that might help us. Do you think Snape would give you a permission slip?”

“Uh, I don't know.” Draco frowned, confused by the sudden subject change.  “Probably, but if I go to him he'll tell the Dark Lord.”

“Right, of course.  I'll see about getting a slip from McGonagall, I'll tell her I'm getting a jump start on NEWTs.”

She didn't say much for the rest of the night, knocking down Draco's repeated attempts to get her talking. 

Of course when they'd first started talking, Draco had thought it would be awkward, but that hadn't been the case at all.  The more they talked, the more he wanted to talk to her- Draco wanted to tell her everything about his life.  They had even talked about how easy it was to talk to each other, but now Hermione was silent, and Draco was worried.

In the week that followed he talked about his family as much as he could, trying to get Hermione to share information about her own.  She never told him to stop or even raised her voice, but she never shared more than a passing mention of her parents either, and the longer this went on, the more worried Draco became. 

* * *

They had hit a wall with the cabinet one night and decided to take a break.  Draco summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey from the stash he kept in the room and took a swig, then offered it to Hermione, a teasing look in his eyes.

“What, you don't think I'll take it?” she asked, slightly offended.

“I want to say no, but you've been known to surprise me,” he shrugged. 

She smirked and snatched the bottle from him, putting it to her lips and taking a sip, her eyes never leaving his.

“If only your Gryffindor lap dogs could see you now,” he drawled.

“They'd say you imperioused me,” Hermione laughed.  “I'm not entirely sure they'd be wrong, either.”

“Forget it, Granger. I take no responsibility for your reckless behaviour,” Draco mimed washing his hands of her.

“How very un-Malfoy of you.” Hermione quipped, taking another swig of whiskey and wincing as it burned her throat.

“Alright, no need to hog the bottle,” Draco frowned, holding his hand out expectantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and passed it over, leaning back against a sofa and staring up at the ceiling. 

“So, do muggles have drinking games?” He asked, moving over to sit beside her. 

“Sure, tons of them,” Hermione shrugged.

“Care to play one?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Malfoy?” She asked, not looking away from the ceiling.

“Of course not, that wouldn't be very gentlemanly,” Draco shook his head seriously.

Hermione let out a snort of laughter, turning her head to look at him.  “Name your game.”

“I'll tell you a deep dark secret, you tell me one.”

“That's not a game,” she pointed out.  “It's what we've been doing for months.”

“Sure it is, you're just not in the right mood,” Draco waved her off.  “Not to worry, we'll soon fix that.”

“Uh huh,” she rolled her eyes.  “And where does the drinking come in?”

“Wherever we so choose.  I'll go first... I wet the bed my first night at Hogwarts.”

“No!” Hermione gasped, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands, trying to hide her smile.

“Yes.” Draco nodded, his usually pale face exceptionally red.  “And you are the only person in the world who knows that, so if it suddenly starts making the rounds, I'll be coming for you.”

“As if anyone would believe me,” she laughed. 

“Very true.  Alright, your turn.”

“You already know all my secrets," Hermione scoffed. "I'm not exactly interesting.”

“You're selling yourself short,” Draco chuckled.  “Come on, what's that thing you're always saying?  Sharing is caring?”

Hermione pursed her lips and held her hand out for the bottle, which Draco was more than happy to hand over. 

“Deepest and darkest?” she confirmed. 

“Don't hold back,” he nodded eagerly.

“IlostmyvirginitytoVictorKrumthesummerafterfourthyear,” she said quickly, each word slurring into the next, then took a deep drink.

“Wow!” Draco gaped at her.  “ _Not_ where I saw this going.”

“Why, you thought I was still a virgin?” Hermione challenged.

“I honestly never thought about it,” he shook his head.  “Like I said, I'm a gentleman.”

“We'll have to agree to disagree on that point," she sniffed. "Your turn.”

“I lost my virginity to Daphne Greengrass in fifth year.”

“That's not a secret,” Hermione shook her head.  “She might as well have put it on the front cover of the Prophet.”

“Fine,” Draco pursed his lips in annoyance.  “What secret do you want?”

She thought for a moment, humming quietly, as she decided.  “Who was your first kiss?”

Draco's blush, which had faded slightly as she shared, deepened until it was even brighter than Hermione's and he snatched the bottle from her hands.

“Oh, so I have found something deep and dark,” she grinned.  “Come on, was it someone truly dreadful?  Pansy?  No, you like her... Oh!  It wasn't Snape, was it?!”

“Snape?!” He spluttered, choking on his drink.  “Salazar's balls, no!  If you _must_ know, it was Theo.”

“Theo?" Hermione frowned. "As in, Theodore Nott?”

“That's him,” Draco huffed.  “We were six years old, and he was the one that initiated it, before you ask.”

“I wasn't going to, but I appreciate the information,” she giggled. 

“Snape,” Draco grimaced and took another drink.  “I love the man, he's a great Godfather, but..” An involuntary shudder passed through him, making Hermione laugh even harder. “Who was _your_ first kiss then?!” he demanded. 

“George Weasley, under some mistletoe second year,” she offered without blinking.  “Not at all embarrassing, and not bad considering how handsome he is now.”

“Never let it be said Hermione Granger doesn't have a type,” Draco rolled his eyes. 

“And what exactly do you think my type is?” she demanded.

“Weasleys.”

“How many times do I have to say it? I do not have a crush on Ronald!” She elbowed him in the ribs sharply and took the bottle back. 

“Ah, but you did.” He argued, snatching it away just as it reached her lips.  “And you've now admitted to kissing another Weasley, and wishing you could snog three more of them.  You have a type.”

“It's your turn.” Hermione pursed her lips, knowing she couldn't exactly argue with his reasoning.

“Give me a second, I'm running out of good material.” Draco frowned for a minute, thinking, then stood and took off his robes and lifted his shirt, revealing a collection of scars across his back and significantly sobering his drinking partner.  “Courtesy of Lucius Malfoy.”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione whispered, reaching a hand out to trace the raised marks, but stopping herself.

“It can't be that much of a surprise,” he shrugged.  “I'm sure everyone expects it.”

“That doesn't make it okay," Hermione shook her head.

“No, but it makes it easier to tell.”

“Who else knows?” She asked, watching closely as he pulled his shirt back over his head and resumed his seat on the floor.

“Theo, Blaise, Daphne, there others who probably assume.  It's not exactly uncommon in our world.”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione repeated, shaking her head.  “I can't imagine what it's like having a parent that would be horrid enough to harm their child.”

“All sunshine and rainbows in the Granger household, was it?” Draco raised an eyebrow, forcing a lighthearted tone.

“I wouldn't say that, but my father never raised a hand to me.”

Draco nodded solemnly, letting his confession hang in the air between them.  He had dropped the parental bombshell, now it was her turn and maybe if he didn't push she would tell him what exactly was going on.

“Just say it.” She finally broke the silence, staring at the ceiling once again.  “We both know you want to- you've been hedging around it for weeks. So, just say it.  Ask.”

“Why do you never talk about your parents?” 

She didn't answer at first, simply continued to study the rafters above their heads, as Draco watched her closely. When he offered her the bottle of firewhiskey again she took it and sipped slowly.  A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, and Draco almost reached out to wipe it away, but decided it would be best not to disturb the stillness that surrounded them.

“My mother's name was Jean,” Hermione whispered, almost to herself.  “She had grey eyes and hair like mine, but she always seemed to tame it into the loveliest curls.  She was beautiful.  She loved to read, mostly historical fictions but she'd take anything, really.”

Draco didn't say a word in response, studying her as she spoke, taking note of every twitch, every breath.  Telling him this was killing her and he felt ashamed of himself for pushing, but then he noted the way her shoulders seemed to start relaxing and he realized that as much as it hurt, she _needed_ to tell him- just as he'd needed to tell her about Voldemort all those months ago.

“She and my father were both dentists- they took care of people's teeth," she explained without thought. "They met in school and got married after University.  They hadn't planned on having children, they were going to move to Australia and start their own practice, but my mother found out she was pregnant a few months after the wedding so they stayed.”

A few more tears slipped from her eyes, but she was quick to brush them away.

“They were good parents, even if they didn't want to be at first. They did their best, they accepted that I was a witch and they tried to understand what I was talking about whenever I came home.  They did their best.”

“Past tense.” Draco finally spoke. 

“Past tense,” Hermione nodded, taking a sip of whiskey.  “Jean and William Granger no longer exist.”

Draco frowned, something about that didn't sound right. “What do you mean they don't exist?” he asked tentatively. 

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I went home for Christmas this year- I hadn't the last few years, I'd spent all my time with Harry and Ron and I knew it wasn't fair to my parents, but it was just so much easier being with them than it was pretending everything was the same as it had always been.  My parents knew that something was wrong, they could tell that I wasn't enjoying myself and started asking questions.  I'd never told them about what was going on in our world- not about the first war, or Voldemort's return, or how much danger I was really in as Harry Potter's best friend-” she paused, taking a sharp breath.  "So I sat them down and told them everything. They were horrified.  They said the wizarding world was barbaric and I would never be going back.  I always knew that they would react like that when the time came, though, so I sat there and took all their anger and threats until my mother went to write a letter to Dumbledore telling him that I wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts after the holidays.”

Without really thinking about it, Draco reached out and put his hand on her knee, giving it an encouraging squeeze and Hermione froze.  He was about to take his hand away, since she was obviously uncomfortable with it, when she put her own over it and squeezed tightly.

“I knew I would have to do it, I- I thought I was prepared-” her voice caught as she stifled a sob. 

“Knew you'd have to do _what_ eventually?” Draco asked softly, turning his hand over so that he could hold her's properly.

“My birthday is early in the school year," Hermione's voice was tight with emotion. "September 19, so I had already lost the trace.  Mum's back was turned, she didn't see me pull my wand and Dad was still shouting about how disappointed he was in me, how angry he was that I had lied to them for so long... I cast the spell and it was like they were frozen in time, like I was in a dream and had somehow pressed pause-” She stopped again, this time allowing her sobs to be heard, and covered her face with her hands.

“It's alright.” Draco patted her shoulder awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do. 

“They'll never forgive me,” Hermione choked.  “It was the last time I'll ever see them, and they were so angry with me!”

“What do you mean it was the last time?” Draco asked, still confused.

“I had to do it!” She pleaded, looking at him for the first time in what seemed like hours, a desperate look in her eyes.  “You have to believe me, Draco, I had no other choice.  It's the only way I could keep them safe.”

“What was the only way?” He asked again, trying to keep his voice calm and steady in comparison to her panicked tone.

“I obliviated them.” 

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she broke down completely, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in them, her entire body convulsing as she sobbed.  Draco could hear her trying to speak through the sobs, but it took him a moment to figure out what exactly she was saying- 'it was my only choice'.

Without hesitation, he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head.  He knew exactly what she was feeling- what it meant to do something so heartbreaking because you had no other choice- and while he also knew that there was nothing he could do or say to make her feel better, it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

“It's alright,” he hummed, holding her tightly.  “It's alright, I know.”

“It was the only way, Draco,” she looked up at him, her voice cracking.  “I had to save them-”

“I know,” Draco promised, meeting her eyes.  “I know you did.  It's okay.”

This reaction seemed to shock her, as though she'd expected him to reprimand her, to shout and tell her that she was an idiot, a criminal- after all, that's what she'd been telling herself for the last three months.

“You did _nothing_ wrong, Hermione,” Draco insisted.  “All you did was protect them.”

“I took their lives from them,” she shook her head.  “I took everything they'd ever known.”

“You _gave_ them their lives,” he argued. "Hermione, you kept them safe."

“The life they always wanted,” Hermione gave him a rueful smile, her eyes eerily hollow.  “They've gone to Australia to start their own practice, no children to keep them from doing what they want.”

“Hermione, your parents love you, you said it yourself,” Draco comforted her.

“They did,” she nodded.  “But that was then, and this is now.  Now, they've no idea who I am- no idea that I ruined the first seventeen years of their marriage.”

“Hermione!” Draco snapped, immediately regretting it when she jumped away from him.  “I'm sorry, I didn't meant to snap, I just can't stand to hear you say something like that about yourself.  Nobody in their right mind could ever think that you ruined their lives.  Your parents didn't think that.”

“You never even met them.” She sneered, staring at her hands in her lap.

“No, but I saw them,” Draco inched closer to her.  “In Diagon Alley, before the start of Second Year and when they came to drop you off at the train. I saw the way they looked at you.  Hermione, they didn't resent you, they were proud of you- as they should be.”

“You don't know that.”

“I _do_ ,” he insisted, covering her hands with his own.  “I know what resentment looks like in a parent's eyes, I saw it in my father's every day, and it's nothing like the way your parents looked at you.  They loved you so much- _love_ you.”

“Not at the end,” she muttered. 

“Yes at the end,” Draco insisted.  “They were upset because you were in danger.  They were trying to protect you as much as you were trying to protect them- that's what love is.”

His words echoed through the silence of the room, hanging in the air like a knut at the beginning of a Quidditch match, it's outcome subject to fate.  He waited for Hermione to say something. To argue with him, to agree with him, to cry some more even, but she was silent.  The whiskey they had consumed seemed to dissipate all at once, as though a sobering potion had been poured down their throats. Draco was aware of every intricate detail of the hour that followed, her continued silence echoing through the room, only interrupted by the sound of his own heartbeat. 

Eventually, Hermione got to her feet and left, presumably to return to her dorm, though she remained silent even when he called after her. 


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione couldn't help but realize that their friendship was turning into something more.  What had previously been a relationship based mostly on arguments and sarcasm was becoming a relationship that consisted of flirting and playful banter, as well as deep and meaningful conversations about their lives.  Draco was the only one who knew about her parents and while she had completely ignored the topic ever since the night she told him, pretending that absolutely nothing had happened, she knew that he cared that she was hurting- and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that she cared about him.  Just last week she'd almost ruined her Draught of Living Death because she was more focused on how exhausted he looked than she was on her ingredients.  When she got grades back, he was the first person she wanted to tell and when she found a book that was worth reading, she couldn’t wait to pass it on to him.  She shared things with him that she had never even dreamt of telling Harry or Ron, yet she couldn't imagine not telling him.  Beyond all that, she saw the way he watched her when they worked, or from across the Great Hall at meals.  She read between the lines when they exchanged notes and she heard the way he said her name when his guard was down- like a prayer. 

Unfortunately,all this was doing nothing for Draco's guilty conscience.  It didn't matter whether he felt about her the same way as she did about him- which he definitely did- they couldn't.  He was dangerous, even being friends with him could get her killed, and he refused to put her in that situation.  He already hated the fact that she was helping him, because he knew if anyone found out they would both be killed. None of these very valid arguments mattered to Hermione, though.

* * *

“I just don't understand how you can look so enthralled during History of Magic.” Draco argued as they took a break from the cabinet, sitting on the floor together with butterbeers.  “I mean, Binns is so dull, it's almost enough to drive a person insane!”

“I'm well aware of that,” Hermione laughed.  “I'll have you know that I look so enthralled because I get more than enough practice pretending to look interested when Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch.”

“So Miss Prefect isn't as perfect as she seems,” Draco smirked.  “Tell me, what is it that you daydream about while dear Professor Binns drones on about Goblin Rebellions?”

“Usually whatever we were doing in the previous class,” she shrugged. “Or what we'll be doing in the next one.”

“Merlin, that's dull!” he cried.  “Come on, Granger, you're not really that boring.  We said 'deepest darkest secrets'.  Out with it!”

“I'm telling the truth,” she laughed.  “I don't like to daydream, it distracts from my studies. And we're not playing a drinking game.”

“Everyone daydreams.  Come on, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Hermione laugh even more, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“If you're so desperate to share your daydreams Malfoy, don't let me stop you,” Hermione waved him on.  “Come on, what does the great Draco Malfoy dream about when he should be listening to his professors?”

“You,” he said seriously, looking directly into her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Hermione's jaw dropped.

“When I'm supposed to be paying attention in class, I dream about you, Hermione Jean Granger.” He held her gaze as he spoke, not a hint of humour in his eyes, then he looked down at his hands nervously.  “How's that for deepest, darkest secrets?”

“Pretty damn good,” Hermione said quietly, studying him.  “I almost believe you.”

“Good, because I'm telling the truth.” He got to his feet and made his way back over to the cabinet, taking out his wand and muttering a few spells, pointedly ignoring her.  Her eyes never left him, though, and she had no doubts that he was telling the truth.

“Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the evening, or are you actually going to help?” His gruff tone shook her from her reverie and Hermione found herself smiling. 

She couldn't put her finger on exactly when it had happened, but it absolutely had- she had fallen for Draco Malfoy. Now, staring at the blond man's back, she suddenly realized that he was her best friend- and sweet Merlin, she wanted to jump his bones.

“Are you even listening to me?” Draco snapped, finally turning around.  “What?  What is that ridiculous look on your face?  Yes, I know, I admitted that I have feelings for you, but that was bound to happen when we we're spending so much time together. It's a stressful situation and you can hardly blame me.  I'm sure that they will pass, given time, and I certainly don't expect you to return them in any way, nor do I plan to act on them because that would be even stupider than you offering to help me in the first place.  So will you please stop staring and come help me get this damn box to work so that we don't all die?!”

Hermione watched him throughout this entire outburst with a smile on her face.  He was embarrassed and trying to overcompensate, and  it was pretty much the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he hissed. 

“Stop snapping at me.” Hermione chided kindly, getting up and approaching him slowly.  “You know, this is your problem Malfoy. You say things and then you don't give anyone any time to think about what you've said before you get yourself in a huff.  It really draws from your more attractive qualities.”

“Well, I'll keep that in mind in the future,” he rolled his eyes.  “Now, are you going to help me or not?”

“That depends on what you want help with,” Hermione shrugged. 

“What do you mean, it _depends_?” he demanded.  “I want your help with this damn cabinet!  We've been trying to fix it for four months now!  Honestly Granger, how dense are you?!”

“Not as dense as you are," she scoffed. "Because if you had told any other witch what you just told me, they probably would have left a hole in the wall on their way out, you'll notice I'm still here.”

“Yes, I see that.  You're a far better person than anyone else, though, and you wouldn't dream of running out on a bloke just because you don't return his feelings.”

“While that may be true,” Hermione allowed, “it's not the reason I'm standing here now, and you're perfectly well aware of that.”

Draco's hands stilled mid-spell, resulting in a few sparks flying from his wand in protest, but he didn't seem to notice. Ever so slowly, he turned on the spot, dropping his wand to his side and studying the petite brunette in front of him.  Her eyes were bright, her lips pressed together in a thin line of agitation- though he knew that she was suppressing a smile.  Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was suddenly standing right in front of him, her breath mingling with his own as she matched his stare, brow raised in challenge.

“Well, Granger.” He cleared his throat, suddenly unsure as to whether or not his voice was actually working.  “I told you mine.  What is it _you_ daydream about?”

“You,” she smirked.  “I dream about you.  How's _that_ for deepest, darkest secrets?”

“Pretty fucking brilliant,” he breathed, smiling so brightly he thought his face might actually split in two. 

And then his arm was around her waist and his hand was cupping her cheek and his lips were pressing against hers, just lightly enough that she wasn't sure if she was daydreaming right then.  But then her hands snaked into his hair and her body pressed against his and everything melted into the most wonderful haze.

When the elation of the moment had worn off, though, Draco pushed her away and began listing all the reasons they couldn't do this. Hermione simply let him talk, sitting comfortably on a sofa and watching as he paced back and forth in front of her.  He had plenty of reasons- some of them were even legitimate- but the longer he talked, the more convinced she became that she didn't give a flying fuck about any of them.

“Are you done?” She asked calmly when he finally stopped pacing.

“No, I'm not done!” Draco cried indignantly.  “I could go on for hours, because this is a terrible idea and-”

“You're done.” Hermione interrupted, getting up and putting her hand over his mouth.  “It's my turn to talk now, because this,” she pointed between the two of them, “is something. And I'm not going to let you push me away, just like I didn't let you push me away every other time you've tried this year, and like you wouldn't let me push you away when it came to talking about my parents.  I care about you Draco, and I want to be with you- I _need_ to be with you and I think it's pretty obvious that you need me too.”

How right she was, Draco thought, but that didn't change the fact that they couldn't be together.  They were star-crossed. 

“Like that Muggle play,” he argued.  “It doesn't matter how we feel, this is going to end in death.”

“Romeo and Juliet can go fuck themselves,” Hermione spat angrily. And then her lips were on his and Draco couldn't have done a thing to stop her- even if he'd wanted to.


	8. Chapter 8

“This is a bad idea,” Draco whispered.

“Well we ran out of good ideas a while back, so this is what we're left with,” Hermione hissed.

They were huddled together under Harry's invisibility cloak, sneaking through the corridors towards the library.

“This is how you got that ruddy dragon out in first year, isn't it?!”

“Yes, and you know why we didn't get caught? Because we were quiet!” she pinched him sharply.

“Ouch!”

“SHH!” They froze and pressed themselves against the wall as Mrs. Norris rounded the corner, her glowing eyes seeming to look straight through them. Hermione felt Draco start to open his mouth and she dug her nails into his arm again. When the cat had moved on, he let out a sharp breath.

“Would you stop doing that?!” he snapped.

“I could feel you were about to say something,” she defended herself. “Now we have to get moving. I swear, that cat can see through the cloak.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about sneaking through the corridors after hours,” Draco pointed out. “Especially for a prefect who has docked more than a few house points from students for being out after curfew.”

“Well someone has to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble,” she shrugged. “Now, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?!” She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was smirking.

* * *

When they finally made it to the library, they snuck into the restricted section and removed the cloak, lighting their wands so they could see.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Draco asked, scanning the shelves.

“Anything you think might help,” Hermione shrugged.

“Seriously?” he turned and looked down at her, arms crossed. “That's your plan?”

“I don't hear you offering any better suggestions,” she challenged. “And stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Towering over me like that,” she snapped, glaring up at him.

“I can't help it that you're so short.” Draco smirked, taking a step closer so that they were almost touching.

“I'm not short, I'm average,” she stood her ground, hands on her hips.

“You're short,” he argued, bending his head so that their lips were almost touching, his hands brushing down her arms slowly.

“Bite me,” Hermione grumbled, trying as best she could to keep her expression neutral. She wasn't able to keep this up for long, however, as Draco took her suggestion at face value, ducking his head and nipping at her shoulder. “Oh!” she jumped, as he soothed the area with his tongue. “I didn't mean literally!”

“Sorry, you should have been more specific,” he smirked. “Now we're even.”

“We're supposed to be looking for books,” Hermione whispered, trying weakly to refocus him.

“I'm not stopping you,” Draco mumbled, nuzzling her neck.

Hermione scoffed at this, though the smile on her lips betrayed her true feelings. By the time they got around to actually looking at the books they would need it was well past two in the morning, but they eventually found them and quickly made their way back to the cabinet to try their latest theory, shutting an apple inside when they'd finished.

The next night, the apple had a bite in it.


	9. Chapter 9

As May came to a close, they still hadn't been able to fix the cabinet so that living things could pass through it.  Every night, no matter what they tried, the canaries they sent through came back dead.  Hermione had been on her way to the library to take another pass at the restricted section when she heard Myrtle shrieking.  Following the ghost's screams, she found herself in a demolished bathroom on the sixth floor, far from Myrtle's usual toilet.

“Myrtle, be quiet!” she scolded, taking in the blood and water all over the floor in confusion.  “What happened?”

“Oh, it was horrible!  Horrible!” Myrtle wailed.  “He was just trying to pull himself together and that horrible Potter boy cursed him.  He's dead!  He's dead!”

Hermione felt the air rush from her lungs and her heart plummet into her stomach.  “Myrtle what do you mean, he's dead?| she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm. " _W_ _ho's_ dead?”

“Draco!” Myrtle sobbed.  “Draco's dead!  And he was the only one who was ever nice to me.  He came to my bathroom all the time- you don't even visit anymore!”

She continued to sob and complain, but Hermione wasn't listening, she'd taken off at a sprint the second she'd heard Draco's name.  He wasn't- he couldn't be.  If he were, she would know, she would have felt it, the same way she could always feel when Harry was in a particularly dangerous situation.  If nothing else, the professors would have been flooding the castle, there would be Aurors and MediWizards and chaos.  None of that was happening, so he couldn't be dead. 

“OI!  No running in the corridors!” Filch grumbled as she rushed past him, but she paid him no mind.  All that mattered was getting to the hospital wing and making sure that Draco was alright. 

She didn't even pause when she got to the doors, shoving them open so loudly that the entire room shook.

“What in- Miss Granger!” Madame Pomfrey stepped out from behind a curtain to scold her.  “What in Merlin's name are you doing making such a racket?!”

“I- uh-” Hermione looked around desperately, suddenly realizing that her relationship with Draco was a secret that no one could know about.  “I-I heard Myrtle screaming about a student being injured and I've been trying to study up on my healing spells, so I thought I might offer some help.”

“That's very kind of you,” the matron allowed.  “But I have everything under control here.”

“So, no one was injured?” Hermione asked, willing her tone to sound far less desperate than she felt.

“Oh, someone is always injured,” Madame Pomfrey smiled reassuringly.  “But no more so today than any other day.  I appreciate your offer of help, though.  You feel free to come up anytime you wish to practice.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Hermione pressed.  “There's no time like the present.”

“Normally, I would agree with you, but I'm afraid I'm rather busy today.”

Hermione recognized by her tone that she wasn't going to get past the matron and while it killed her to walk away, she did. 

* * *

 

When Harry explained what had happened, it took every ounce of strength she had not to hex him black and blue.  Even then, she only managed to control herself for a few minutes before she had to retire to her dormitory, claiming that she couldn't deal with her friends anymore.  The truth of the matter, was that she couldn't hold back her tears any longer.  As soon as she got to her dorm, she charmed the curtains shut and cast a silencing spell, then buried her face in her pillow and allowed all her fear and anger and desperation to escape.  Sure that she wouldn't be heard, she screamed.  She screamed as loud and as long as she could, and when she couldn't scream anymore she sobbed. 

Ginny came looking for her at one point, obviously concerned by her sudden departure, but Hermione sent her away with the claim that she was trying to study.  She stayed there until she was sure that everyone had gone down to the Great Hall for dinner, then made her way to the Room of Requirement in the hopes that Draco would be there. 

She paced the room for three hours, desperately trying to make her brain stop spinning.  After the first hour, pacing wasn't enough to keep her anxiety at bay, so she started to organize.  Starting at the front of the room and working her way back, pile by pile, she sifted through and organized each and every pile of forgotten objects.  When the door opened around eleven, she had made it through the first fifteen stacks, set up multiple living room designs with all the furniture, created a small library and liberated an unholy number of magical creatures- including a rather vapid pixie that presumably found its way to the room during Professor Lockhart's tenure in second year.

“Granger?” Draco called tentatively, taking in the room's newly found state of order.  “Hermione, are you in here?”

“Oh, thank Godric!” She came hurtling out from behind a stack of carpets and threw her arms around his neck, sending them both falling backwards.

Draco let out a pained gasp as they fell and she immediately sat up, a worried look on her face.

“What is it?  What's wrong?” Hermione demanded, her hands roaming all over his body in an attempt to find what was hurting him. 

“Hey, I'm alright,” he groaned.  “I'm fine, Granger.”

“No, you're not,” she shook her head quickly.  “You are the exact fucking opposite of alright and if you try to tell me you aren't one more time, I will kill you myself Draco Malfoy.  Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” he smirked.

“Do not smirk at me like that,” Hermione seethed. 

“Sorry,” Draco tried to school his expression.  “Really though, I'm alright.  I've got some brilliant new scars, but that's all.”

“You shouldn't be sitting on the floor,” she got to her feet suddenly, pulling him up with her.  “Come sit.”

“Love, how long have you been in here?” Draco asked, following her to one of the many living room sets she had put together.

“Since it was safe to sneak out of the tower,” she shrugged.  “I don't really know how long ago that was.  I just hoped you would come down eventually.”

He could tell by her tone and the way that she suddenly refused to meet his eyes that something was bothering her- something more than the fact that he'd been hurt earlier in the day.

“Hermione?” He reached out to stroke her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and frowned when he realized that she was moments away from bursting into tears.  “What is it, love?  Talk to me.”

“Myrtle,” she started to explain, then shook her head as if to silence herself.

“What about Myrtle?” Draco asked, taking her hands in his. 

“I was on my way to the library and I heard her screeching louder than usual, so I went to investigate.” She paused and took a ragged breath, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.

“Hermione, what did Myrtle do?” 

“She said you were dead.”

Draco's heart momentarily stopped as he watched Hermione's lower lip begin to tremble and a few tears slip from the corners of her eyes.

“She said that Harry had killed you!”

“Hey, I'm fine!” he insisted, pulling her into a hug.  “Nothing a couple counter-spells and a healing potion or two couldn't fix.”

“I didn't know what else to do, so I started running for the hospital wing,” she continued.  “I was so scared, Draco.”

“That was you?” He smirked, sitting back a bit so he could see her face.  “You were the one making all that racket in the hospital wing?”

Hermione nodded shyly and he began to laugh. 

“I thought someone had been attacked by a Hippogriff or something, the way you came storming through those doors!”

“You're the only idiot around here who gets attacked by Hippogriffs,” she huffed. 

“Oi, a few hours ago you thought I was dead, shouldn't you be nice to me right now?”

“I've moved past the fear,” she smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. 

“Well, I suppose that's good, since there's nothing to be scared about,” Draco allowed.  “I was rather out of it at that point, however.  What exactly did you tell Madame Pomfrey about why you were storming her hospital?”

“I told her that I was interested in improving my healing skills and had heard there was an injury of some sorts that I might be able to assist her with.”

“And she believed you?”

“I don't think so,” Hermione allowed herself to smile.  “But she didn't call me on it.”

“Poppy won't say anything,” Draco shrugged.  “She's a good old bird.”

“I'm sure she'd be pleased to hear you say so.  Are you really alright?”

“I promise,” Draco nodded, resting his forehead against hers. 

He could tell by the look she was giving him that she didn't believe this for a second, however, so with far too many dramatics he sat up and pulled his robes off, then gestured for her to help him with his shirt.  He wasn't prepared for the broken gasp that she let out upon seeing his injuries, however, and he winced at the look on her face. 

“It's far worse than it looks,” he tried to reassure her, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it. 

“Draco!” her voice caught in her throat as she took in the angry red scars that covered the entirety of his chest, stomach and shoulders, the remnants of the deep gashes that had been there only hours before.  “God, if Snape hadn't been there-”

“But he was.” He took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “He was there, and he healed me, and now I'll be good as new in a couple days.  I swear.”

As was her habit when she was nervous or uncertain, Hermione began to gnaw at her bottom lip while her fingers traced the marks on his chest lightly.

“Do you want me to make a wizard oath?” Draco offered.  “Because I will.”

“Don't be stupid,” she chided him. 

“Well, you still seem worried when there's nothing to worry about,” he reasoned.

“Nothing to worry about,” she scoffed.  “You're a bloody idiot, do you know that?”

“You've pointed it out once or twice,” he smiled, pulling her in for a kiss.  


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks later, they finally did it.  The canary Hermione had transfigured the night before came fluttering out of the cabinet when they opened the door and Draco almost collapsed.

“Hey, it's okay,” Hermione put her hands on his arm. 

“It's over now,” he shook his head.  “This is the end of everything.”

“Your mother is safe now,” Hermione countered. 

“I suppose it's all relative.  She may not be in danger of immediate death, but now we're all going to be in far more danger than we were.  Hermione, they're going to come now.”

“I know,” she sighed, resting her head against his arm. 

“You should go tell Dumbledore that we've done it,” Draco pushed her away gently.  “He'll want to know.”

“He can wait.”

“Hermione-”

“I know what you're doing, Draco,” she stood her ground, taking his hand and pulling him over to the sofa.  “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Hermione, this changes-”

“-It changes nothing.”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” he snapped.  He tried to stand up, but Hermione quickly swung her leg over and straddled his lap, keeping him in place.

“No, because I know what you're going to say.  You've said it all a dozen times and I don't want to hear it again,” Hermione said, starting to get annoyed.  “I'm here, I'm with you, I _want_ to be with you and there is nothing that is going to change that- not your constant attempts to sabotage your own happiness, not house rivalries, not our friends and not the bloody Dark Lord.  I'm not going anywhere.”

Draco sighed heavily and cupped her face in his hands. “You're too stubborn for your own good.”

“No, I'm just stubborn enough,” she put her hand over his. “No matter what happens now, I'm not going anywhere.”

“It's not safe,” he argued desperately. 

“Nowhere is safe until that monster is gone," Hermione reasoned. "Our being together won't change any of that.”

“Of course it will!”

“It won't!” she insisted.  “I'm Harry Potter's best friend, you don't think I'm in danger already?!”

“This is different!”

“Of course it's different!  I'm not in love with Harry!”

Draco froze, his mouth open in shock at her sudden confession, but Hermione held his gaze, completely sure of herself.

“Sorry?” he choked.

“I said, I'm not in love with Harry,” she repeated softly, enunciating each word carefully.  “I'm in love with you.”

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his forehead gently against hers. 

“Hermione-” he started to speak, but stopped unable to find the words.

“Are you trying to tell me you don't feel the same?” she asked carefully.

“No,” he stroked her cheek with his thumb.  “I feel exactly the same, but I can't stand the thought of putting you in more danger than you need to be.”

“Then you know how I feel,” Hermione retorted, a desperate look in her eyes.  “Draco, I'm the only person in the entire world that knows what side you're really on.  Not two weeks ago my best friend almost killed you, and that's what every single day is going to be like if we go on like this.  You're worried about my safety in the future?  I've been worried about yours every day for the last year!”

“I know.” He sighed, dropping her gaze in shame.  “I know, I'm sorry.”

“Come with me to tell Dumbledore,” she begged, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her.  “We'll tell him everything, he'll protect you.  You _and_ your mother.  Please, Draco.”

She looked so broken as she pleaded with him, tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice as she tried to control herself, and Draco could feel his resolve shrinking.  He couldn't say no to her, hadn't been able to since the first time she kissed him- since she'd first stumbled upon him at the beginning of the year, if he was being honest.   

“Okay,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

Draco smiled morosely at the hopeful look in her eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he repeated.  “We'll go see Dumbledore.”

“Now?” Hermione asked, her voice still shaky.

“If that's what you want,” Draco agreed.

“Thank you.” She collapsed against him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and her face buried in his neck as she whispered over and over,  “Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.”

* * *

“So, you are Miss Granger's confidential source,” Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully after hearing Draco's confession.  “I had my suspicions.”

Neither he or Hermione bothered to ask how the Headmaster had come upon these suspicions, they were both aware that the man had seemingly supernatural knowledge of the goings on of the school.

“Now, can I take your sudden confession as a sign that you no longer wish to serve Lord Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked. "I feel safe in assuming as much, from all you've just told me."

“Yes, sir,” Draco nodded.  “I- I'd like to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

Hermione gave him an encouraging smile, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

“That is a very commendable decision.  I assume that your joining our ranks has some conditions, though?”

“I wish there were,” Draco sighed.  “But I know that my parents won't leave Him.”

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, knowing how hard this was for him- he was doing it for her, not for himself.  He didn't see this as saving himself, but abandoning his mother, and her heart broke for him.

“You wish to protect them, despite the danger involved," Dumbledore reasoned.

“Of course I do, they're my parents!” Draco snapped, not liking the Headmaster's tone.

“Well, I may be able to offer a solution to that effect.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked nervously, her head snapping up to look at the Headmaster. 

“I mean, that Mr. Malfoy is in a very unique position that could greatly increase the Order's effectiveness in the fight against Voldemort,” the older man explained.  “You are a member of the inner sanctum, whether you wish to be or not, and that affords you an opportunity.”

“And what would that be?” Draco frowned.

“Well, as I see it, you have two options.  The Order shall be more than willing to bring you under our protection of course, however, there is also another option.”

“Another option?” Hermione echoed, an overwhelming feeling of terror settling in her chest.

“You have already proven yourself to be an excellent informant.  Should you choose to, you would be able to resume these duties and remain with your parents.”

Draco heard Hermione's terrified gasp, and he felt her nails dig into the back of his hand.  He could practically hear her heartbeat, but Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind: _Remain with your parents._

“Now, obviously this would be dangerous, and no one would expect you to make that choice,” the Headmaster continued, “but your help would be instrumental in taking down Voldemort.”

“Y-you want him to go back?” Hermione stammered.  “You want Draco to- to live with _Him_?”

“I am merely providing the option,” Dumbledore countered.

Draco simply nodded along, trying to take in all the information he was being presented with. He knew that Hermione was terrified of the option Dumbledore was giving him, that she wanted nothing more than to scream 'No' at the top of her lungs and lock him in a tower somewhere- but he also knew that she wouldn't say any of this out loud.

“So, you want me to spy,” he finally found his voice.

“To put it in layman's terms," Dumbledore nodded.  "Professor Snape assures me that you are a more than accomplished Occlumence, which makes you an exceptional candidate."

Draco thought about it for another minute.  It was dangerous, of course, but if he could help bring the Dark Lord down and still protect his mother, he had to.

“Okay,” he nodded.

Hermione bit back a sob and tried to pull her hand away, but Draco held on.

“I have to,” he turned to her.  “It's the only way to keep my mother safe.”

“I know,” she nodded, tears flowing freely. "I know."

In the hours that followed, Draco informed Dumbledore of the coming attack on Hogwarts and they agreed on a plan for his return to Malfoy Manor.

“When I am gone, you will only make contact with Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Dumbledore ordered.  “I will assure that he joins us before Voldemort's invasion, so the two of you can arrange some form of communication.”

“Sir?” Hermione frowned at this.

“Miss Granger, you and I both know that, should Draco's task not be completed, all of this will have been for nought,” he smiled sadly.  “My days are numbered, no matter how I come to my end, I will not survive the Deatheater's incursion.”

He said it with such finality that neither Hermione or Draco could find it in them to argue.  It seemed that the Headmaster knew exactly what he was saying, and had found no room for error in his judgement. 

“I trust that you will keep this information to yourself,” he turned to Hermione pointedly.  “For our plans to work, _no one_ can know what has been discussed here tonight.”

Hermione understood his meaning plainly and nodded, no one would know about this night- not even Harry.

* * *

 

She barely seemed to blink before the night arrived- the night that would begin it all. 

“You could still change your mind,” she mumbled, her face buried in Draco's chest as he held her. 

“So could you,” he chided her softly.  “But we both know we won't.  This is how it has to be, love.”

Hermione only nodded, unable to speak through her tears. 

It was almost over now, Harry would be leaving with Dumbledore soon and the Deatheaters would already be gathering at 'Borgin and Burke's', ready to storm the castle as soon as the old man was gone.  The war would begin that night, and soon after she would be leaving with Harry and Ron, hunting for horcruxes. Hermione was ready, she knew what the night would bring, and the days that followed, but she could feel Draco's heart racing with anxiety .

“Don't go,” he muttered, just as she had moments before, his forehead resting against hers and his hand wrapped in her hair.  “Please.”

“I have to,” she shook her head, holding his face in her hands, stroking his cheek softly. 

“It's too dangerous.  What if you're caught?  What if you're-” he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, the words catching in his throat.

“It'll be okay,” she promised.  “I'll be fine, and when it's all over we'll finally be together.  Everything will be okay.”

“Your optimism is infuriating,” Draco laughed harshly.

“I know,” she smiled softly, leaning back so she could see his face properly.  “But it's all we have.”

They had only minutes before she would have to leave and Draco couldn't bear the thought of letting her go, of watching her walk out the door for what could be the last time.

“Promise me,” she grabbed his face suddenly, forcing him to look at her.  “Promise me that you'll be safe.  No matter what happens, I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I promise, as long as you do,” he met her eyes. 

“I mean it, Draco.  No matter what happens,” she repeated.

“You mean no matter what happens to you,” he realized suddenly, pulling away from her angrily.

“Yes," Hermione nodded, letting him go for just a moment. "Draco, please, promise me.”

There were tears in her eyes as she watched him pace, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought back the urge to lash out at her.

“Draco.” The pleading tone in her voice made him stop and look at her, studying her as though he was going to be tested- and maybe he was, who knew how long he would have to live off nothing but the memory of her. 

“Please,” she whispered, her gaze dropping from him to her lap, where she twisted a ring nervously.

“I promise,” he sighed, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his.  “I promise.”

She rested her forehead against his again, breathing in the moments they had left together, murmuring her thanks.

“Promise me the same, though,” Draco took her face in his hands, just as she had, his thumb stroking her cheek.  “No matter what happens to me, you keep yourself safe.”

She nodded, unable to actually say the words, as though she could keep it from happening as long as she didn't put it out in the universe.

“I love you, Hermione Granger,” Draco wiped a tear from her cheek. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly appeared in the doorway, startling the couple from their reverie when he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but it's time to go."

Hermione nodded quickly, wiping the remaining tears from her face.  “I'll be there in a minute,” she promised.

Kingsley nodded and stepped out of the doorway to give them a final minute of privacy.

“I love you,” Hermione repeated, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend tightly.  “Keep your journal close.”

“I will.  I love you too,” Draco held her flush against him, trying to memorize the feeling of having her in his arms.

They shared one last kiss, trying desperately to make it say everything that they couldn't, and then Kingsley was in the doorway again insisting that they had to go now.

“We'll be together again,” Draco promised as she pulled away.

“Now who's the optimist?” she smiled wryly.


	11. Chapter 11

The notebooks were a godsend the first few months they were apart.  They had promised to use them only to reassure each other that they were safe, just in case they were caught, but each night when Hermione opened her book to see a new line in Draco's neat printing, a weight was lifted from her shoulders- at least for a little while.

* * *

Hermione had been laying on the floor in Grimmauld Place pretending to be asleep for close to an hour as she waited for Harry and Ron to fall asleep after Bill and Fleur's wedding.  As soon as she heard Harry's breathing even out and Ron begin to snore, she snuck out of the sitting room and retrieved her notebook.  She didn't expect him to- it was almost two in the morning and he was probably asleep- but as soon as she opened the book she found an entire page of fresh ink demanding to know if she was okay.

**Granger, where are you?  Please, I need you to write me back, I need to know that you're okay.**

**Hermione, I'm not kidding, it's been hours!**

**Hermione Jean Granger I am going to strangle you the next time I see if you don't write back.  Please!**

Hermione's heart leapt to her throat as she read, knowing how desperate he must be.  She picked up a pen and wrote back in an almost illegible scrawl.  Neatness could take a backseat for a second.

_I'm here, I'm fine._

**Right now, perhaps, but just you wait till I get my hands on you.**

Hermione smiled to herself, imagining the exasperated look she knew he would be wearing as he wrote her, trying to hide his fear behind sarcasm. 

**You had me worried sick.**

_Welcome to my world.  I swear to you, though, I'm fine.  We got away, we're safe._

**Now is not the time for 'I told you so's Granger!**

_It seems like the perfect time actually.  I so rarely get to gloat without you talking over me._

**You are on thin ice, Granger.  I mean it.**

All she wanted in that moment was to be able to grab his chin and kiss away the glare she knew he was giving her, and thinking of being able to do that brought tears to her eyes.  There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so much she wished she could tell him, but before she could put pen to paper, she heard one of the boys stirring in the other room.

_I love you.  So much_

She scribbled the words down quickly, then shut the notebook and tucked it back into her bag just as Ron stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. 

“Whatterya doin?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“I couldn't sleep.  I thought if I got up for a few minutes I'd be able to.”

“Come back to the other room,” he held his hand out to her.  “I'll keep you company till you sleep.”

Hermione gave him a wry smile and took his hand, allowing herself to be lead back into the room. 

* * *

A few weeks later they snuck into the Ministry and when they fled, her notebook was one of the things that was left behind, tucked inside a cauldron in the kitchen cupboards. 

Losing the notebook had been the first straw.   Not having even the momentary assurance of Draco's safety each night, Hermione found herself laying awake for hours thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to him.  Her only comfort came from the occasional glance at the Marauder's Map.  Each time she caught a glimpse of his name, her heart seemed to jump into her throat and she would have to make an excuse to step outside so that she could sob in peace. 

It was always worse when it was her turn to wear the necklace, the dark object filling her with an overwhelming sense of loss and panic, instead of the anger that seemed to radiate off Harry and Ron. 

Every time she fell asleep, she was plagued with nightmares of Draco being caught, tortured and killed.  She did her best to keep quiet when they came, burying her face in a pillow so her friends couldn't hear her sobs, but she could tell that they were suspicious. 

When Ron left, things got infinitely worse.  Her nightmares became more vivid and when she was awake, an all encompassing sense of fear weighed on her chest.  It was because of this that she finally told Harry what was going on. 

* * *

 

Hermione thrashed around in her cot, her nightmares in full force just as they had been every night since they had gone into hiding. 

From his position at the tent's entrance, Harry watched her worriedly, not sure if he should wake her or simply let her ride it out.  He could never tell with Hermione, she could be so distant sometimes, especially since Ron ran out on them.  He'd tried to get her to talk about it a few times, but she always blew him off, insisting that there was nothing wrong and immediately turning his attention back to their search. 

He had just picked up his copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' when her scream jolted him from his thoughts.

“Hermione!” He jumped to his feet and rushed to her side.  “Hermione, wake up!”

He'd barely touched her shoulder when she bolted upright, a terrified look in her eye.

“Hey, it's okay,” Harry offered.  “It was just a dream-”

“The map!” She interrupted, her voice shaking.  “Where's the map?”

“What map?”

“That bloody map of Hogwarts!  Your dad's map- THE MAP, Harry!” She practically screamed, kicking free of the blankets that had wrapped around her legs.

“Uh, it's on my bed, but-” He'd barely gotten the words out before she pushed him aside and made a mad dash for the bunk on the other side of the tent, desperately patting down the blankets to find the piece of parchment.

“My wand,” she demanded once she'd found it.  “Give me my wand!”

She was on the verge of tears and Harry was convinced she was having some sort of nervous breakdown, but he handed over the wand and sat beside her carefully.

“I-I solemnly swear th-that I am up  t-to no good,” she stammered, her hands shaking so much that she could barely hold the wand to the paper.  “Please be there,” she breathed, searching the map. “Please be there, please be there, please be there-”

The parchment shook violently as she tried to find whoever it was she was looking for and Harry didn't know how she could possibly read the thing, but a moment later the shaking stopped and she let out a relieved sob. 

“Thank God.  Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God,” she put her face in her hands, the map falling to her lap as she cried.

“Hey, it's okay,” Harry put an arm around her shoulders carefully.  “It's okay.”

Hermione shook her head, her face still buried in her hands.

“Sure it is,” Harry tried to reassure her.  “We've got each other.  We've got this lovely tent.  We've got fresh air.  What more could you want?”

This at least earned him a sob that sounded like it might have been a laugh, so Harry continued to rub her arms comfortingly, waiting for her to calm down. 

It was a few minutes before her sobs quieted to whimpers, and she finally looked up, her eyes red and her face soaked in tears. Harry offered up a corner of a blanket lamely, and earned another small laugh, then transfigured a handkerchief from a pillowcase and handed that over. 

“Hermione, what's going on?” he asked quietly.  “ _Really._ ”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she shook her head, still refusing to look at him.

“We're living in a tent, searching for pieces of a man's soul,” he pointed out.  “There's not a whole lot left in the world that I wouldn't believe- I've even been reconsidering my stance on Santa Claus.”

Hermione smiled again momentarily, but remained silent.

“How about we start small?” Harry offered.  “Who were you looking for on the map?”

At this, she actually laughed- a harsh, slightly crazed bark that made Harry even more worried than he already was.

“Hermione, come on, you can tell me anything,” he pleaded.

“Not this,” she shook her head. 

“Hermione, please," he begged quietly. "Whatever it is, it's eating you alive, even _I_ can see that.  I promise to listen and not judge.  Just, please, tell me.  Maybe I can help.”

“You can't,” Hermione sighed.  “Not really.  Not more than you already are.”

She wiped a few straggling tears from her cheeks and picked up the map again, scanning it quickly before settling on a spot.

“Please,” Harry begged once more, his hand covering hers and squeezing it tightly.  “Who were you dreaming about?”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her finger stroking a dot on the map that Harry couldn't read.

“Draco,” she said, the name barely more than a whisper.  “I was dreaming about Draco Malfoy.”

“What about him?” Harry asked, trying not to sound judgemental. 

“He was being tortured- the Cruciatus,” she continued.  “And I couldn't stop it.  I couldn't get to him-” She let out another sob, her hand leaving the map to cover her mouth.  “Draco and I-” she started to explain once she'd controlled herself, then stopped to gather her thoughts. 

Harry recognized the look on her face well, it was the same one she got when trying to decipher a difficult arithmancy problem, so he simply sat quietly and waited for her. 

“Merlin, I don't even know where to start,” she barked, her voice shaking again. 

“How about the beginning?” he suggested carefully.  “Just take your time, it's not like we have anywhere to be.”

She gave him a tight smile, then took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“The beginning?” she sighed.

“You've always told me it was the best place to start,” he shrugged.

“I was looking for a place to study.  Ron was being particularly annoying and Lavender was practically trying to swallow his entire head, and you were glaring daggers at Ginny and whoever she was seeing, and I just needed a quiet place to study.  And somehow, I ended up stumbling into the Room of Requirement.”

“Malfoy was there?” Harry guessed.

“He had a right fit that I was able to get into the room while he was using it.” Hermione smiled fondly, that night seemed so long ago now.  “I thought he was going to Avada me right then and there, but I stood my ground.  I told him to stop acting like such a child.”

“I bet he took that well,” Harry quipped.

“Extremely,” she chuckled.  “He started screaming about how I knew nothing about him or his life or anything else for that matter, and should stick to what I knew- how to be an annoying little bookworm.  I told him that was exactly what I was trying to do, so if he would just clear out I would get back to it.  He said, 'I was here first, Granger, and I have far more important things to worry about than your ability to answer every bloody question in every bloody class'.”

“How kind of him,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“I could have punched him in his translucent, stuck up face,” Hermione ignored him.  “I demanded to know what was so important, that he would lower himself to speaking to me for so long, and Morgana only knows why, he told me.  Well, screamed it at me.”

“Screamed _what_ at you?” 

Hermione took a couple deep breaths, studying his face closely.

“Come on, Hermione.  We've come this far,” Harry nudged her shoulder encouragingly. 

“Just- don't say anything, okay?” she gave him a pleading look.  “Please?”

“Okay,” he agreed. "Sure."

She studied him for another minute, chewing her lip nervously, then seemed to focus on a spot across the floor and continued.

“He took the mark after Lucius went to Azkaban, to protect his mother from You-Know-Who, but he doesn't believe it- any of it- he hadn't believed it in years.  He took the mark because he didn't have any other option- it was the only way to keep his mother safe.”

She could tell that Harry was grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep silent, but she forced herself to keep going, determined to make him understand.

“His family hasn't been in favour since Lucius was arrested, You-Know-Who wants them dead, but He couldn't do that without it looking bad, so He got creative.  He gave Draco tasks that he couldn't possibly fulfil, so that when he failed He could kill him and his mother and no one would even blink.”

“Killing Dumbledore,” Harry assumed.

“It was more than that.  He had to figure out a way to get the Deatheaters into the castle that night,” Hermione explained.  “The stress of it all, it was killing him.  I mean, you saw, he was practically collapsing in on himself.  He couldn't eat, he barely slept, it was taking everything he had just to keep up that emotionless facade of his.  He was trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the room of hidden things, it's part of a matching set, and the other one was in Borgin and Burke's.  If he got it fixed, the Deatheaters would be able to get into the school and his mother would be okay.  The only problem was that no one has been able to fix those cabinets in years.  No one even knew how they were broken, it was such extraordinary magic.”

Hermione shook her head, trying to focus on the story at hand.

“Anyways, he yells all this at me, by the time he finished he was close to tears and in that moment, he wasn't Draco Malfoy: the boy who'd been bullying me for years, he was Draco Malfoy: the boy who had no other choice.  I realized that he was in the exact same position as the rest of us, forced into a war that he never asked for and didn't believe in, to protect the people he loved.  So I hugged him.”

“You what?” Harry asked, a horrified look on his face.

“I hugged him,” she repeated, laughing as she remembered the look on Draco's face when she reached for him.

“So, you held Draco Malfoy while he cried like a baby?” Harry confirmed, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

“Yes, I did,” Hermione glared.  “And then we talked.  I tried to get him to go to Dumbledore, to tell him what was going on and get his help, but he wouldn't.  He was terrified that You-Know-Who would find out and kill his mother... So I offered to help him.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Harry cried, releasing her hand and jumping to his feet.

“Harry, please, you promised to listen!” 

“That was before you admitted to helping Vol-”

“I DID NO SUCH THING!” she screamed, jumping up to face him.  “HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF THAT!”

“YOU JUST SAID-!”

“I DID NOT, WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH!?”

They glared at each other for a minute, both breathing heavily, until Harry finally nodded sharply and gesticulated for her to keep talking.

“I told him that I would help him fix the cabinet,” Hermione repeated, trying to keep her emotions in check.  “And in exchange, he gave me information about the goings on he heard about with the Deatheaters, which I passed on to Dumbledore.”

Harry at least had the decency to look vaguely apologetic as she explained this, though his stance still gave off a powerfully combative air. 

“So every night, we met in the Room of Requirement and worked on the cabinet,” Hermione continued.

“How did you keep that secret?” Harry demanded. 

“We met after midnight.”

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head.  “How could you keep that from Ron and I?”

“How would you have reacted if I had told you I was helping Draco Malfoy?” she scoffed.  “You would have thought I was crazy, or that he'd Imperiused me.  You would have gone after him, tried to kill him, and let the entire world know what we were doing and he would have died.”

“It's _Malfoy_!” Harry argued.

“Don't say it like that,” Hermione shook her head.  “Like he's some horrible, incurable disease.”

“He might as well be.  He almost killed Ron, Hermione, are you forgetting that?!”

“That was an accident! He never meant for anyone else to get hurt!”

“Oh, please, how could you be so naive to believe that?!” Harry rolled his eyes.  “He's always hated Ron, I bet he was right chuffed to hear about his near death experience.”

“He was horrified!” Hermione shot back.  “How dare you accuse him of something so horrid!  You don't even know him!”

“Neither do you, if you can't see straight through whatever game he's been playing at!”

“I'm in love with him!” 

Silence fell over the tent, broken only by the occasional sound of wind against the fabric walls, as Harry stared at her in complete and utter shock. "Excuse me?”

“I'm in love with him,” Hermione repeated, each word perfectly enunciated.  “We spent every night together for six months, and we got close.  We shared our lives with each other, every aspect of our lives and we became friends- friends like you and I, Harry.”

“No,” Harry shook his head in disgust.  “No, don't compare you and me, to you and him!”

“We told each other everything,” she pushed on with her explanation, raising her voice so that he was forced to listen.  “I don't know when exactly, but at some point we stopped being just friends and started being something more.  If you want the gory details, I'll give them to you, but I feel safe in assuming you'd rather set yourself on fire.”

“You're right about that,” he scoffed.  “Gods, Hermione!  How could you fall for someone like Malfoy?”

“ _You don't know him, Harry_ ,” she insisted once again.  “You don't know anything about him.  All you see is what you've been told to see for the last seven years, what Ron and all the other Gryffindors told you.  You see his House and you see his name, and nothing else.  You don't see that he's kind and brilliant and funny and loving.  Gods, Harry, he's the most loving person I've ever met.  He cares so much, and he holds it in until it swallows him alive.”  
She had started to cry again, desperate to make her best friend understand, for him to see the man that she knew and not the boy that they had grown up with. “He's killing himself trying to protect everyone, and you don't see any of it.”

“Hermione, he's a Deatheater!”

“Not by choice!  No more than you had a choice in joining the Order!  He's trying to keep his mother from being murdered!  You of all people must understand that!”

“Me of all people?” Harry demanded, fire in his eyes.

“Harry Potter, do not look at me like that,” Hermione chastised him.  “I know you.  I know you better than anyone else in this world, and I know that if your mother were still alive, you would do _anything_ to save her.  Look what you're willing to do for the rest of the world!”

She had him there, and he knew it too, as he slouched ever so slightly and crossed his arms moodily.

“Draco is doing the same thing you are- fighting desperately to protect the people he loves.”   
When Harry didn't shout back at her angrily, she knew that he was at least willing to hear her, so she continued.  “The night we finally fixed the cabinet, we went to see Dumbledore and told him everything- just like I'm telling you now.  When we finished, Draco expressed his wish to join the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore forgave him.  He told him that there was nothing he would have done differently and that he didn't hold any of Draco's choices against him, and then he gave him a choice.  Either he could walk away, right then and there and be put under the protection of the Order, or he could stay and play the double-agent as he had been for the last year.”

Harry's jaw dropped.  He couldn't even imagine being asked to spy on the Dark Lord himself, and he could see into the man's mind!

“Draco insisted on being the martyr,” Hermione continued, her voice catching.  “He said he wanted to do everything he could to defeat You-Know-Who, so he would go home for the summer and play the part of the perfect Pureblood son, just as he had for the last seventeen years.  I begged him not to, I told him it was too dangerous, even if he is a brilliant Occlumence, but he wouldn't budge.  He couldn't leave his mother behind, and he knew he would never get her to leave- especially not after Lucius' escape from Azkaban.  So now he's there, in the same house as that _monster_ , all alone.  And I'm here, with you, trying like hell to get these fucking horcruxes before he gets caught.”

She threw her arms out as if to say, 'there it is', then dropped back onto Harry's bunk, and went back to watching Draco's name on the map, her tears soaking into the parchment. 

Not knowing what to do with all this information, Harry began to pace, his mind spinning so fast he could barely breathe.  And then he looked over and saw Hermione, his best friend in the entire world, curled up on his bed clutching a map with the name of her... boyfriend.  He cringed even thinking about it, but that seemed to be the situation.  He wanted to punch the blond Slytherin prick in his stupid teeth, but there was Hermione to think about.  Hermione was the closest thing he had to a sister, he just wanted her to be happy, and as of that moment she most definitely was _not_ happy.

“Hermione,” he scrubbed his hand over his face and sat down beside her.  “Hermione, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to yell at you.”

“Yes you did,” she sniffed.  “I knew you would.”

“No, I really didn't,” he apologized.  “I just worry about you.  I don't want you to get hurt, and Malfoy... he's hurt you so many times.”

“This is different,” she sat up a little.  “Harry, trust me.  I didn't walk into this lightly, I didn't just jump in head first and throw caution to the wind.  This wasn't something that happened suddenly, or quickly and he isn't manipulating me, or using me, or anything like that.”

“But how can you be sure?” Harry insisted.  “Hermione, I don't mean to be a bigoted prick, but you have to know where I'm coming from.”

“I do,” she nodded.  “Harry, believe me, I had the same doubts at first, but that was before I really got to know him.  You trust me, don't you?”

“Of course I do.  I trust you with my life.”

“Then please, trust me about this.  I love Draco, and he loves me.  He is a _good_ man.”

Between her desperate tone and the pleading look in her eye, something in Harry's brain told him that he needed to believe her.  So he swallowed his pride and years of hatred, took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Hermione sat up hopefully.

“Okay,” he sighed.  “I trust you, and I trust that you know what you're doing.  If you love him... I don't know, I wish you luck?”.

Hermione laughed and threw her arms around his neck.  “You're hopeless, Harry Potter, you know that?”

“Well I don't know, what are you supposed to say when your best friend announces that she's in love with your nemesis?” He asked, laughing along with her.

“Your nemesis?”

“Yes, my nemesis,” Harry repeated.  “Though, for your sake, I will refrain from calling him that anymore.”

“Thank you,” she rolled her eyes.  “Listen, Harry, I know that this seems completely out of the blue and more than a little crazy, but I really do love him.”

“I can see that,” Harry assured her.  “So... I don't know where we go from here.”

“Me neither,” Hermione admitted.  “We can just leave it where it is.”

“I get the feeling you'd like to talk about it," Harry observed. "Would you?”

She chewed her lip and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hey, I tell you all about how much I miss Ginny,” he put his arm around her shoulders again.  “What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't extend you the same listening ear?  Who else knows about the two of you?”

“Kingsley, he's Draco's contact.  That's it.”

“No one else in the Order knows that he's on our side?” Harry asked.

“No,” she chewed at her lip again.  “Dumbledore thought it would be best if only one other person knew.”

“That seems...”

“Stupid?” Hermione supplied.  “Tell me about it.  I spend every day worrying that he's going to be caught and killed on the spot because only two people in the entire world know about this and one of us is in hiding.”

“Geez, Hermione,” Harry shook his head in disbelief.  “I can't believe you kept this to yourself for so long.  It must have been killing you.”

“It is,” she nodded sadly.  “But Dumbledore said it would keep him safe, and I need him to be safe- or as safe as he can be.”

This, at least, Harry could understand.  He felt the same way about Ginny- a desperate need to keep her safe, coupled with an overwhelming feeling of uselessness being so far away.

“He'll be okay,” he tried to comfort his best friend.  “Malfoy's smart, he'll worm his way out of whatever he has to to get back to you.  He is his father's son, after all.  You'll see him again.”

Hermione had smiled at this assurance, wanting nothing more- but she hadn't wanted it to be like this...


	12. Chapter 12

When Greyback had announced that he'd caught Potter, Draco hadn't believed it.  He had followed his mother into the drawing room fully expecting to find some random boy with glasses, but he had almost audibly gasped when he got there.  Not only had they found Potter, they had found Hermione.

The room began to spin, Draco's mind ran circles, desperately trying to figure out what to do, how to save her, how to get her out of this house and away from his family before they could figure out who she was- who she was to _him_.  And then she met his eyes, glaring at him seriously and shaking her head, almost imperceptibly.  He knew what she was saying, and it killed him.  _You promised._   He could hear her telling him to be safe no matter what happened, could feel her hair between his fingers and her forehead against his, as he replayed their final conversation in his head.  This was what she had meant that day, not to be safe if she died, but to be safe if she were caught- to keep up the facade of loyalty, no matter the cost.  Damn her and her need to live for the greater good.  The Order could go to hell if it meant saving her, but he knew that he couldn't- not without getting them all killed.  So he stood at his mother's side, his nails digging into his hands as he clenched his fists, blood filling his mouth as he bit his cheek to keep from crying out, from launching himself across the room to pull her from his aunt's hand.  He focused all his effort on casting silent numbing spells towards her, praying to whoever or whatever would listen that he would be able to lessen her pain, if nothing else. 

And then Bella had pulled out the knife and begun carving, and the screams stopped, melting into whimpers and half-conscious pleads for mercy.  Her head fell to the side, and he worried that she was dead- that she had died right in front of him and he had done nothing- but then her eyes opened slightly and met his, holding his gaze for as long as she could before the pain finally overtook her.

Draco couldn't tears his eyes from her as his aunt moved on to interrogating the goblin that had been brought in, demanding to know if the sword was real.  It wasn't until she put her hand to the mark on her arm that Draco realized what was happening- what was about to happen- and then she had offered Hermione to Greyback and Draco snapped.  To hell with the Order, to hell with empty promises and to hell with trying to save people who didn't want to be saved.  Before Draco could move more than an inch, though, an angry shout came from around the corner and Weasley and Potter launched themselves into the room, disarming Bella and stunning his father.  His mother and Greyback both raised their wands to defend themselves and Draco made a mad dash for Hermione, his only thought that he had to save her.

But he was too late, Bella had gotten their first, wrenching Hermione's lifeless body up and holding a dagger to her throat.

“STOP OR SHE DIES!” she shrieked, smiling maliciously as Harry and Ron both froze. 

With all eyes on his father or his aunt, nobody noticed as Draco quietly moved closer to Hermione, waiting for his moment of opportunity.  

Harry and Ron dropped their wands, and Bellatrix ordered him forward to collect them- all the better for me, Draco thought, it's never hurt having an extra wand.

He could feel the mark on his arm burning as the Dark Lord drew closer and he knew that he had to act quickly.  He was just coming up with a plan when he heard a grinding noise above him, causing the entire room to look up and see Dobby unscrewing a chandelier.

Draco took his chance, turning on his heel and pointing his wand at his aunt.

“STUPEFY!” He shouted, sending the mad woman flying backwards as he dove to catch Hermione.  He barely pulled her away before the chandelier came crashing down, and all hell broke loose.  Without missing a beat, Draco chucked the other wands he held back towards Harry and half dragged, half carried Hermione towards where her friends were holding court, keeping low to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.  He didn't think about what he had done, didn't look back to see the look on his parents' faces, he simply held onto Hermione as tightly as he could, and thanked Merlin that Potter had grabbed his arm as Dobby apparated them away. 


	13. Chapter 13

“HARRY LOOK OUT!” Ron cried out as soon as their feet touched down, his wand aimed at Draco's head.  “Let her go, you bastard!”

“Ron, stop!” Harry reached out and pulled his arm down, stepping between them.  “He's on our side.”

“HE'S A DEATHEATER!” Ron roared.  “HIS FAMILY JUST TRIED TO KILL US!  HE'S GOT HERMIONE!”

“But _he_ didn't,” Harry shook his head.  “Dobby, is this Shell Cottage?  Have we come to the right place?  Are we safe?  Dobby?” He turned on the spot, looking for the elf, then gasped. “DOBBY!”  Harry dove forward to catch him as he fell, cradling him in his lap.  “Dobby, no.  HELP, WE NEED HELP!  Hermione!”

Harry turned pleadingly towards her, praying that she would know what to do- Hermione always knew what to do- but she hung limply in Draco's arms, barely conscious and unable to help.  As he cradled the dying house elf, Ron raised his wand towards Draco again, shouting at him to let Hermione go. 

From afar, Draco could see people running towards them and shouting for Harry and Ron.  All he cared about, though, was Hermione. She was standing, but only barely, Draco knew that if he let go of her she would crumple to the ground immediately.  Her head lolled from side to side and she had begun to mutter incoherently.  
“Hermione.” Draco dropped to his knees, carefully bringing her with him and pulling her into his lap, tucking her head safely against his shoulder.  “Hermione, it's okay.  You're safe now, I've got you.  I'm so sorry, love.  I'm so sorry.”

Ron was still shouting at him, but his voice seemed miles away, all Draco could focus on was Hermione.  He brushed the hair from her face carefully, stroking her cheek softly and pressing kisses to the top of her head, pleading with her to wake up, to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she wasn't about to die in his arms. 

And then someone ran at him, shoving him backwards into the sand, making him lose his grip and sending Hermione to the ground.  As he got to his feet, he saw someone crouching over her and he charged. He didn't know where they were, he didn't know what was going on, he just knew that he had to keep her safe.

“Get away from her!”  He snarled dangerously and launched himself at the crouched figure, wrenching them away from Hermione's prostrate form, before lifting her into his arms again and drawing his wand.  “Don't touch her!  Nobody touch her!” He turned slowly, aiming his wand at each and every figure before him, glaring menacingly.  He didn't register their faces or anything else of consequence, all he knew was that they were trying to take her away from him- and he was never going to let that happen again. 

“Draco,” a soft, lilting voice drifted through the shouts and a slight figure stepped forward.

Draco immediately turned his wand on the person, holding Hermione to him even tighter.

“Draco, it's alright,” Luna Lovegood said quietly.  “It's alright, she's safe now.”  She took another careful step towards him, her hands outstretched peacefully.  “This is a safehouse,” she explained.  “No one's going to hurt her.  Hermione needs help, she needs medical attention, Draco.  You need to let us help her.”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” Ron cried out furiously.  “Luna, get away from him!”

“It's fine, Ronald,” Luna said airily, her eyes never leaving Draco's.  “He's on our side.”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?!  HE'S A DEATHEATER!”

“No,” Hermione rasped, drawing the attention of everyone on the beach despite the fact that she was barely louder than a whisper. 

“Hermione.” Draco let out a breath of relief, his eyes leaving Luna's immediately, dropping to Hermione's face.  “Hermione, love, you're alright, I've got you now.”

She nodded slowly and her hand gripped his shirt tightly, as though she knew someone would try to take her away from him. “Ron.” She cleared her throat and turned her head slowly, wincing at the pain both actions brought.  “Ron, he's a member of the Order.  He's on our side.  He-”

Before she could say anything else, she fainted again, and a tall man with red hair and a scarred face stepped forward. “We need to get her inside,” he said sternly.  “Ron, get out of the way.”

“B-but-”

“Move!” The man shoved his shoulder and motioned towards the house.  “Hermione needs healing.”

Luna nodded encouragingly at Draco. “Go with Bill, he'll help you.  I'll bring Harry in a few minutes.”

Without any other options, unable to heal Hermione himself and terrified that she was about to die, Draco followed the blonde's instructions, trusting that she believed him. 

When they got up to the house, a small seaside cottage, another blonde woman was waiting with a supply of potions and spellbooks.

“You'll know Fleur from school, I expect,” the scarred man turned to Draco.  “She was in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Draco nodded, vaguely recognizing her as the competitor from Beauxbatons.

“Put 'er down 'ere.” Fleur told Draco, motioning towards the sofa.  “Tell me what 'appened.”

Draco was reluctant to let go of Hermione, but he set her on the couch all the same, carefully propping her head up and brushing the hair from her face.  When he tried to step away and give Fleur space to work, however, Hermione's fist tightened in his shirt and she let out a small whimper.

“Shh, it's okay,” Draco knelt beside her, stroking her cheek softly.  “I'm right here, love. I'm not going anywhere.”

“'Ermione,” Fleur spoke softly, reaching out and taking the semi-conscious girl's free hand.  “You are all right now, you are in Shell Cottage with Bill and I.  We will take good care of you.”

“Draco,” Hermione murmured.

“He eez right 'ere,” Fleur promised. “He eez going to tell me what 'appened so I can 'eal you.” She turned and looked at Draco expectantly, once again.

“She- she was tortured,” he stuttered, unable to look away from Hermione's broken form.  “Cursed.”

“Wheech curse?” Fleur asked, reaching for one of her books.

“Crucio,” Draco answered hollowly. 

Fleur froze, her hand hovering listlessly over the stack of books. “Oh,” she squeaked, a fresh look of pity crossing her face. 

“I- I tried to help,” Draco explained quickly, shaking his head.  “I couldn't stop it, but- but I tried to numb her.  I don't know...” His voice failed him as his emotions caught up with him and he began to cry. “Oh, Gods, what have I done?” he sobbed, pressing Hermione's palm to his lips.  “What have I done?  What have I done?”

Fleur could tell that she wouldn't be able to bring the poor boy in front of her any comfort, so she busied herself trying to heal Hermione's arm.

“How is she?” Ron asked, coming to stand beside his sister-in-law.

“I zink she will be alright,” Fleur sighed, finishing wrapping her arm.  “Zis blade must 'ave been cursed, zough.  I cannot 'eal it, not properly.”

“Well I hope you're happy, Malfoy,” Ron snarled, shooting daggers at him. 

“Ron, I think you should go help Harry,” Luna entered the room.  “He's digging a grave for Dobby and I think he'd appreciate the company.”

“I think he'd like someone to tell me what the hell is going on and why you don't seem at all concerned about the fact that Draco Malfoy is sitting in my brother's house and acting like he's upset.”

“Ron,” Fleur put a calming hand on his arm.  “Take a breath.”

“No!  Get away from her!” Ron surged forward, ripping Draco away from Hermione and throwing him to the ground.

“Ron!” Bill surged forward, trying to get between his younger brother and Draco before the situation could get any worse.  Unfortunately, he didn't move fast enough.

Once Draco was on the floor, Ron tackled him, pressing a knee to his chest and punching him in the face.  Before anyone could intercede, both boys were rolling around the floor, beating each other half to death.

In a rushed attempt to get them away from each other, Bill raised his wand and sent the brawlers flying to opposite ends of the room. “THAT'S ENOUGH!” he shouted.  “Ron, take a walk!”

“But-”

“NOW!” His tone was so reminiscent of their mother that Ron swallowed his arguments and stormed from the room, slamming the back door loudly and startling Hermione back to consciousness.

“Draco,” she whimpered, trying to reach for him.

“I'm here,” Draco hurried back to her side.  “I'm right here love.”

Hermione turned to look at him and tried her best to smile, then her eyes focussed and she gasped.  “Draco, your face!”

“I'm okay,” he shook his head quickly.  “Don't worry about me.  How are you?  Are you in pain?”   

“It's not too bad.” She shook her head slowly, raising her hand to stroke his cheek, thankful when he lowered himself so she could reach.  “I'm okay.”

“You could have died,” Draco swallowed a sob.  “Gods, Hermione-”

“But I didn't,” she interrupted him.  “I'm fine.”

“You can barely move,” he shook his head sternly.  “You're not fine!”

“I will be,” she promised.  “I'll be okay.  Isn't that what you said when the situation was reversed?”

This, at last, brought a smile to Draco's lips as he remembered a night so many months ago when he had given Hermione the same assurances- the night Harry had tried to kill him.

“You need to rest,” Fleur interrupted the couple.  “Let's get you settled in ze guest room.  Can you walk?”

“I think-"

“No,” Draco stopped Hermione before she could do more than sit up a few inches.  “I'll carry you.”

“Draco I-”

“I'm carrying you,” he said with finality.  “Come here.”

He gingerly helped her wrap her arms around his neck then lifted her off the couch, cradling her against his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Zis way,” Fleur led him up the stairs and into a small bedroom.  “I'll bring up a sleeping potion for 'er.  But first, I must check on 'Arry and ze ozers.  Eef you need somezing, just call.” She gave him one last encouraging smile, then left them alone.

Draco settled Hermione in bed as comfortably as he could and went to pull a chair over, but she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the bed beside her.

“Don't go,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Never,” Draco promised, sitting on the bed and letting her settle into his side.  “Never again.”

Hermione nodded slowly, resting her head on his chest and letting the pain and exhaustion take over, knowing she was safe in his arms and that no one was trying to take him away.  


	14. Chapter 14

Listening to her ragged breathing, Draco let his guilt wash over him, revelling in the pain that it brought- pain that he so rightly deserved for letting his family hurt her, for not helping her sooner, for not leaving the manor while he had the chance.  There were so many things he should have done, so many ways he could have protected her- but he hadn't.  He had made that damn promise, he had believed in her need to fight for the greater good, and look where it had gotten them. 

The longer he thought about it, the more angry he became.  Angry with his parents for following Voldemort.  Angry at Dumbledore for letting him go home and spy on the Deatheaters, when he was just a kid.  Angry at Potter and Weasley for not protecting her.  Angry at Hermione for making him swear not to interfere, for that look in her eyes when he was brought into the drawing room, ordering him to stay the course.  Above all else, though, he was angry with himself.  For not joining the Order sooner, for not leaving the manor when he'd had the chance, for not stopping Hermione from running off with Potter in the first place. For not locking her up in the closest safe house and refusing to let her out of his sight.  He was her boyfriend, it was his job to protect her and he had failed her. 

There it was, the heart of it all, the thing he would never be able to forgive himself for. He had failed the woman he loved- and Merlin did he love her- but sitting on this bed, listening to each and every painful breath she took, he knew that she could never love him after this. 

“I'm so sorry, love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.  “I'm so sorry.”

“If she could hear you right now, she'd tell you to shut up.” A voice said from the doorway. 

Draco hadn't even heard the person enter, but he wasn't surprised to see Harry Potter shut the door carefully and lean back against it.

“Don't worry,” he held his hands up cautiously.  “I know.”

“Know what, exactly?” Draco asked, his arm tightening around Hermione.

“All of it?” Harry frowned uncertainly.  “At least, I think so.  She told me what you did, how you've been spying for us since last year, and that the two of you are...” He trailed off, pointing between the intertwined pair uncertainly.

“Well, we were,” Draco sighed.  “Who knows now.”

“You still are,” Harry shook his head.  “None of this is your fault, Malfoy.”

“I don't know how you could possibly come to that conclusion,” Draco scoffed.  “I could have stopped them-”

“They would have killed you,” Harry interrupted.  “If you had stepped in any earlier, we would all be dead right now.  You saved our lives.”

“I didn't save anyone,” Draco shook his head. 

“You're an idiot,” Hermione said quietly, turning her face up so she could look at him. 

“Sorry?” Draco frowned.

“You, are a bloody idiot,” she repeated firmly.  “You never give yourself the credit you're due.  You saved us, Draco.  You saved me.”

“I stood there and watched Bella torture you,” he argued, his voice catching again. 

“I know you cast numbing charms,” Hermione told him.  “You took away as much of the pain as you could.  I made you promise not to do anything stupid, and you kept your promise.  You don't understand how much that means to me.”

“But-”

“No!” She pushed herself up against his chest, wincing, and glared. “If you had gotten yourself killed trying to save me, I would never have gotten over it.”  Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought about what might have happened if he had acted earlier, if he had tried to stop his aunt before Ron and Harry had escaped. “If you had tried to intervene-” she choked back a sob.  “You would have died and  _that_ would have killed me.  So please, for me, believe that you did the right thing.”

“Okay.” Draco agreed his voice barely more than a whisper, as he quickly shifted beneath her so that she was leaning on him completely again.  “For you.” He kissed the crown of her head, breathing in her scent and relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms again, momentarily allowing himself to forget the last few hours.

He didn't have long to savour the moment, though, as Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing their attention. 

“Sorry, but, I need Hermione.”

“You're kidding, right?” Draco gaped at him.  “She can barely move.”

“I'm okay.” Hermione shook her head, pulling away from him slowly. 

Draco glared at the both of them, but got up, allowing her to slip to the edge of the mattress and put her feet down. Harry was quick to jump to her aid, crossing the room and offering his arm.

“Thanks,” Hermione gave him a tight smile.  “Dobby?”

Harry shook his head morosely, and her face fell.

“I'm sorry, Harry.”

He shrugged in thanks, then quickly changed the subject.  “We have to talk to Griphook.”

“Where's Ron?” Hermione asked, looking back at Draco nervously.

“He's waiting for us,” Harry promised.  “Don't worry, we'll explain it all to him as soon as we're done.  Malfoy, Fleur wants you to go downstairs and have something to eat.  She says you're too thin.”

Hermione smiled at this, which made Draco smile in turn.

“I'll find you when we're done,” she promised, then allowed Harry to lead her from the room, leaning on him far too heavily for Draco's liking.

“You were amazing, by the way,” Harry told her as they slowly crossed the hallway. “Coming up with that story and holding up against Bellatrix-” He shook his head in disbelief, squeezing her arm encouragingly.  Hermione offered him only a slight smile in return, not wanting to think about what had happened just yet- not when there was still work to be done.

“What have you told Bill?” she asked quietly. 

“Nothing. He's not pleased, but he's not asking either.  He wants to send Griphook and Mr. Ollivander to stay with the rest of the family at Auntie Muriel's.  Fleur's angry with me as well, she wanted to let Griphook rest.”

“I'm sure she realizes how important it must be,” Hermione offered. 

“Hermione!” Ron stepped into the hall and rushed to her side, pulling her into a rib-cracking hug.  “Are you alright?  He didn't hurt you, did he?  I'll kill him-”

“You'll do no such thing,” Hermione snapped.  “Ron, we wouldn't have brought him here if he was dangerous.  Draco is on our side and has been for quite some time now.”

“We promise to explain,” Harry added.  “But first, we need to talk to Griphook.  Come on.”


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione found Draco in the sitting room with Luna and Dean, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Hey!” He jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” she smiled. “How are you?”

“Nobody's tried to kill me since you left,” he shrugged. “So I'd say I'm okay.”

“Day's not over yet,” Ron snarled, entering the room behind Hermione. “Now, hows about someone tells me why you seem to be so friendly with Malfoy?”

“I think we should sit down,” Hermione sighed.

“I'm fine where I am,” Ron crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Ron, sit down,” Harry shoved him towards the sofa, which had been vacated by Luna and Dean seconds earlier.

“We'll let you talk,” Dean muttered, following Luna into the kitchen.

Ron sat down reluctantly and glared at Hermione, all of his previous concern for her well-being gone. Hermione sat down on the loveseat with Draco at her other side, while Harry perched on the arm of a chair nearby. 

“Draco and I are dating,” she ripped off the bandaid.  

Before Ron could start screaming obscenities and say something he would regret, Harry waved his wand and silenced him, giving Hermione a chance to get out the entire explanation.

“Last year, I found Draco in the Room of Requirement having a tantrum, he just about took my head off with a bookcase and we rowed,” she pushed onward. “One thing led to another, and he told me everything that was happening. How You-Know-Who had tasked him with killing Dumbledore-”

“I'm well aware of all that,” Ron huffed. “Everyone is.”

“Would you let her talk?” Harry glared. “Or should I just keep my wand at the ready?”

“Fine.” He grumbled and turned his attention back to Hermione, his face still making it perfectly clear how angry he was about the situation.

“I helped Draco fix the vanishing cabinet,” Hermione continued. “And I told Dumbledore everything Draco told me about the Death Eaters. The night we got the cabinet working, we went to see the Headmaster and told him everything- what we'd been doing, what You-Know-Who was planning and all the details that went along with it. Draco swore his allegiance to the Order, and he's been playing the part of a Death Eater so that he could feed us information.”

“ _We're_ part of the Order,” Ron pointed out.

“I only deal with one person,” Draco explained quietly. “Dumbledore thought it would be best. When he died, Hermione and I approached Kingsley. He's the only one who knows where my allegiances truly lie- or, he was, I suppose.”

“You knew?” Ron turned his anger on Harry suddenly, his face burning as red as his hair.

“Not the whole time,” Harry refused to meet his friend's eyes.

“When?” he demanded.

“Ron,” Hermione's voice was calm and even, but Ron didn't seem to hear her.

“ _When_?” he repeated, glaring at Harry.

“When you left,” Harry snapped. “Alright? Are you happy?”   
Ron at least had the decency to look ashamed, even if it was only for a moment.

Beside her, Hermione could feel Draco staring at her questioningly and she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly and hoping he would understand that she would explain later.

“You left, you remember that?!” Harry snapped, his own anger finally releasing. “Things weren't going as easily as you seemed to think they would, and you walked out on us. _That's_ when I found out about Malfoy. Are you happy?!”

“Harry-” Hermione got to her feet and reached out to him, forcing herself to remain calm when all she wanted to do was thrash the both of them. “Harry, take a breath. It's been a long night and we're all on edge, you just need to take a minute.”

“I'm not going to take a damn minute!” Harry snapped, making Hermione jump back. “He left, that's what happened, I'm not just going to brush over that fact.”

“Harry, it was the necklace,” she said placatingly. “You know it was messing with his emotions, it did it to all of us. Please, sit down.”

“I don't want to-”

“Harry Potter, sit your scar faced arse in that chair and let me speak or so help me!” Hermione finally snapped. She didn't have the patience for Ron and Harry's petty squabbles right now. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, she had bled clear through the bandages on her arm and she hadn't slept in three days. No, now was not the time for niceties, which was why she didn't bother to pay attention to the shocked looks she was getting from all three men in the room.   
“I told Harry about Draco and I while you were gone because I was upset,” Hermione told Ron. “Everything was going terribly, you had left, and when you're living in a tent in the middle of nowhere hiding from an evil, seemingly all-powerful wizard, you don't exactly bother filtering anymore. He could see that I was worried and I'd started watching the map, just like he did, and he wanted to know why. So I told him and if you'd have been there, I would have told you, but you weren't.” She dropped heavily onto the loveseat, her hand resting on Draco's leg protectively as she slumped slightly against him. “I didn't tell you before, because we promised each other that we would keep it a secret, that no one would know because it was the only way to keep each other safe. Just like I made him promise not to interfere if something like yesterday happened.”

“But why tell Harry and not me?” Ron demanded. “I'm your best friend too!”

“Because I knew you would act like this!” Hermione barked, sitting up straight again. “In the seven years that we have been friends, Ronald, you have never once had anything kind to say about Draco, and I know that there are perfectly valid reasons for that, but they don't apply anymore. He's changed, we all have, and I need you to accept this, but I knew that you wouldn't- not while we were in hiding. That's why I didn't tell you, Ronald. I was barely holding it together worrying about Draco living with those people, never knowing if he would be dead the next time I searched for him on the map. I couldn't deal with your petulant, judgemental, bigoted anger on top of all that. I just couldn't!” She sat back in an angered huff, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting- what she was waiting for, though, she couldn't quite decide.

An overpowering silence fell over the room as everyone took in the information that had just been vomited at them, each member of the Golden Trio breathing raggedly, glaring angrily and waiting for the others to speak. It was Ron that finally broke the tension, getting to his feet and storming out. No sooner had Ron stepped out, than Fleur stormed in with an expression so fierce Hermione thought she was about to face another dragon.

“You 'ave bled through ze dressings,” she scolded Hermione, drawing everyone's attention to the large blood stain on her shirt.

“Hermione,” Draco gasped, pulling her arm towards him and studying it closely. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I've had more important things to deal with,” she snapped, pulling her arm away from him.

“Well you don't anymore,” Harry said. “You need to rest.”

“Exactement,” Fleur nodded. “To bed with you- all of you.”

“Bed,” Harry chuckled humorlessly. “What's that again?”

“Come on,” Draco stood up and held his hand out to Hermione. “I'll help you get cleaned up.”

“Zere are still bandages in ze room,” Fleur offered.

“Thank you,” Hermione took Fleur's hand, squeezing it tightly. “For everything.”

“We are family, non?” the blonde woman smiled softly. “We must care for each ozer.”


	16. Chapter 16

Draco knelt in front of Hermione and carefully unwrapped the bandages on her arm, biting back a gasp as the full extent of the damage his aunt had done came into view.  “I'm so sorry, Hermione.”

“It's not your fault.” She let out a hiss of pain.

“I should have stopped her,” he shook his head mournfully.  “I should have done something- anything.”

“You did,” Hermione ran her free hand through his hair calmly.  “I wouldn't have made it out of there without you.”

“I know,” he leaned into her touch.  “It doesn't make me feel much better though.”

“Well, it makes _me_ feel better,” she smiled.  “Does that help?”

Draco looked up at her, taking in the pleading look in her eyes and allowed himself the smallest smile. “Yeah, it does,” he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.  “Okay, we've got to get this cleaned up.”

He conjured a bowl of warm water and a cloth, then retrieved the potions and ointments Fleur had left.

Despite his attempts to be as gentle as possible, Hermione couldn't stop herself from whimpering each time he touched the cloth to her arm, making Draco's heart clench. “I'm sorry,” he muttered repeatedly, doing his best to clean her up as quickly as possible.  “I'm sorry.”

Hermione had her eyes squeezed shut and her face was contorted in pain, but she kept nodding at him to continue. 

“I'm almost done,” Draco promised.  “You're doing so good, though.”

“Mmhmm,” she winced.

“There, all done.” He set the washcloth aside and reached for the healing ointment. 

“That's not done,” Hermione muttered.

“The painful bit's done,” he amended.  “This will help now.” He lathered a generous amount of ointment over the marks carved into her arm, then bandaged it tightly. “Okay, _now_ I'm done.”

Hermione sighed heavily, opening her eyes a little to be sure he wasn't lying again, then allowed herself to relax against the back of the chair.

“You did so good.” Draco cooed, perching on the armrest and pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “So good, baby.”

Hermione simply nodded, leaning heavily against him and taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?  Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don't think so.  Are _you_ alright?” She reached up to touch his bruised face, carefully tracing the marks.

“I'm fine,” he promised.  “Fleur patched me up while you were having your secret meeting.  She left a sleeping potion for you, do you want to take it now?”

Hermione shook her head quickly, reaching out to take Draco's hand.

“Hermione, when was the last time you slept?”

“I've been busy,” she shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant.  “You know, Dark Lord to take down, idiots to keep alive, torture to withstand.”

Draco winced at the mention of torture and Hermione looked down at her hands awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she muttered.  “I didn't mean-”

“I know,” he threaded his fingers through hers.  “You need to sleep, love.  Look, it's Dreamless Sleep potion, you'll wake up in a few hours and have no idea you even closed your eyes.”

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, staring listlessly at their intertwined fingers. “Will you stay with me?” she asked quietly.

“Just try to get rid of me.” Draco kissed her forehead, then slipped the vial of potion into her hand.  “Lay down, love, I'll be here the whole time.”

* * *

When the potion wore off, the nightmares came for her with a vengeance just as Draco had known they would.  She called out in her sleep, thrashing about as though she was fighting someone.

“Hermione,” Draco shook her awake harshly.  “Hermione, wake up!”

“No!” She screamed, bolting upright and scrambling off the bed, only to get caught in the sheets. 

“Hey, hey,” Draco held up his hands and spoke softly, giving her space to breath.  “It's okay.  You're alright.”

Hermione didn't seem to hear him, though, too focussed on disentangling herself and getting to safety.  Once she had managed to free herself from the twist of sheets, she fled to the farthest corner of the room and curled into a ball.

“Hermione, you're okay.” Draco repeated, his tone quiet, but firm as he approached her.  “It's me. It's Draco.”

“No, no, no,” She pleaded over and over a mix between a scream and a prayer as she tried to make herself as small as possible, shrinking further and further back into the corner.

“Hermione, look at me,” Draco said firmly.  “You're alright.  That bitch is gone now, she can't hurt you anymore.  You're alright.” He crouched in front of her and placed his hand over hers, wincing when she flinched at his touch. “It's okay,” he reassured her.  “Everything's alright now.  I'm here, I've got you.”

Slowly but surely he pulled her into his arms, though she didn't unfurl herself, until she was curled up in his lap. “You're alright now,” he promised, stroking her hair softly.  “You're alright, I've got you.  I've got you.”

As her frantic cries changed to muffled whimpers, he felt her relax into him, her hands moving from her knees to hold onto him.

“I've got you,” Draco repeated.  “You're alright, I've got you.”

“Draco,” Hermione finally whimpered, the nightmare slowly ebbing away.

“I'm right here,” he promised.  “I've got you.”

“The sword,” she said.  “Bellatrix-”

“She's gone,” Draco shook his head.  “She can't hurt you anymore. I won't let anyone hurt you.”

Hermione nodded slowly, finally looking around.

“We're at Bill and Fleur Weasley's,” he reminded her. "

She nodded again, the events of the day catching up to her. “Luna and Dean?”

“They've moved to another safe house.  One of the twins came to get them, along with Mr. Ollivander.”

“M-my wand,” Hermione looked around the room, panic in her eyes again.  “Where's my wand?”

“It got taken back at the Manor,” Draco said apologetically.  “But Potter disarmed everyone and brought the wands with him.  I can go get you one.”

“No!” Her already vice-like grip on him tightened even more at the mention of being left alone, and Draco was quick to respond, holding her even tighter against his chest.

“Okay, I'm not going anywhere.  It's okay, don't worry.” Hermione let out a sound that was somewhere between a deep breath and a laugh, and Draco smiled sadly. “Well, do your best.”

“I'll try,” she looked up at him and smiled weakly.  “You're okay?”

“Right as rain,” he kissed her forehead.  “We both are.”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“Well, we will be,” Draco shrugged.  “Come on, let's get you back in bed, you're shivering.”

“I can't sleep,” Hermione shook her head frantically.  “I can't see her again.  Please, Draco.”

“Who said anything about sleep?” Draco donned that reprehensible smirk Hermione had grown to love so much and she felt the swell of panic in her chest dissipate slightly, replaced by the sheer joy of having him back in her arms.

“Talk to me.” She ordered once they were settled under the covers, Draco propped up against the headboard, her head resting against his shoulder.  “It's too quiet.”

“What do you want me to talk about?” Draco asked.

“Anything,” Hermione shrugged.  “Everything.  Tell me.”

“Hermione-” he shook his head, knowing what she meant.

“Tell me,” she repeated, turning so that they were face to face. 

Draco looked up at the ceiling and sighed.  He'd always known that he would have to tell her, but now didn't exactly seem like the best time.

“Tell me.” Hermione repeated, reaching up to stroke his cheek, then guiding his face down to hers and kissing him softly.

“Stop that,” he frowned, trying not to meet her eyes.  “You're not playing fair.”

Hermione smirked and kissed him again. “Please,” she whispered against his lips, smiling when his shoulders sagged in surrender. 

“What do you want to know?” he sighed.

“When we split up, what happened next?”

Draco's eyes closed again, his body tensing at the prospect of revealing the last year to his girlfriend. 

“It's okay,” Hermione leaned against him, her arms wrapped around his torso.

Draco smiled and allowed his hand to graze up and down her arm as he began to speak, deciding it would just be easiest to get everything out in one shot. “I went back to the Manor,” he started.  “I tried to keep my head down as much as possible, but it's not exactly easy when Snake Eyes is living in your house.”

Hermione twined their fingers together, feeling his heart rate increase.

“Snape was instated as the new Headmaster at Hogwarts, and there were all kinds of new laws put in place.”

“We heard about that,” Hermione nodded. 

“Did you hear about the torture squads?”

She nodded again.

“The Carrows were in charge, but they had me leading a group of Slytherin students in Sixth and Seventh year.  I did my best to keep the younger kids safe, but there are so many Purebloods who still believe in him...” Draco shook his head sadly.  “Theo and Blaise joined the squad to try and help me.  Theo's never wanted anything to do with the Death Eaters and Blaise's family has done their best to remain neutral, but they saw what I was doing.  Between the three of us we were able to keep most of the kids safe, especially with Weaslette and her gang running through the castle causing havoc- at least until the holidays.”

“What happened?”

“The Order must have realized that the Weasleys were being watched, because Red never came back- the whole family went into hiding.  Once she was gone, the student body started getting smaller and smaller.  Longbottom disappeared first and we assumed that he had been taken, but neither Theo or I heard anything about it, so we realized he must have gone into hiding.  Then more students started disappearing.”

“What do you mean, disappearing?” Hermione asked concernedly. 

“I mean you would see them at breakfast, or in class, then they'd be in trouble and you wouldn't find a trace- not that we minded.  It's difficult faking the Cruciatus convincingly, even using occlumency.”

“Where did they go?”

“I have no idea,” Draco shook his head.  “But I know they haven't been found- at least not by anyone in the castle. Most of Weaselette's army has disappeared to wherever it is, so I assume they've found a way to contact the Order.”

“We should ask Bill,” Hermione mused.  “Maybe he knows where they are, or at least if they're alright.”

“I wouldn't worry about them too much,” Draco tried to reassure her.  “If any of them had been killed, it would have been headline news.  Most of them are labelled Bloodtraitors, Snake Eyes would be thrilled to scream it from the rooftops- especially if he got Longbottom.”

“Why Neville?” Hermione frowned.

“Have you ever met his grandmother?” 

“Once,” she nodded.  “Briefly.”

“Well, she's a force of nature, that one,” Draco explained, a mischievous grin on his face.  “She's been making life just a little difficult for the Death Eaters.  Put Dawlish in the hospital when he came after her.”

“Well done, Augusta,” Hermione chuckled. 

“I certainly thought so,” Draco agreed.  “Neville went into hiding the same night she did, and since then I've spent all my time trying to keep everyone alive.  I don't know what will happen now that I'm gone.”

He stared at the wall vacantly, but Hermione could tell how much it pained him to think about the children he had been forced to leave at the mercy of Snape and the Carrows.

“You did everything you could,” she tried to comfort him.  “And you said Theo and Blaise were helping keep them safe.  They're not going to stop.”

“I know,” Draco nodded.  “But now that everyone knows I was a turncoat, who knows if they'll trust the others.”

“If everything goes to plan, you won't have to worry for long,” Hermione sighed.

“What are you talking about?” he frowned.

“Harry has a plan. If it works, this will all be over soon.”

“What kind of plan?” Draco asked skeptically.

“The kind that I can't tell you about,” Hermione said apologetically. 

“Because it would make me want to lock you in a basement and chain you up to stop you from doing it, or because he doesn't trust me?”

“Because no one can know about it,” she insisted.  "I'm sorry, Draco."

“You know, the whole mysterious woman thing was fun when it first started, but I have to admit I'm not as fond of it now,” he pursed his lips.  

“I know,” Hermione cuddled further into his side, listening closely to the steady drum of his heartbeat.  “It'll be over soon, though, and I'll be able to tell you everything.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, pressing his lips to her hair.  “I hate that you have to keep all these secrets.”

“It's not like before,” she offered.  “At least I have Ron and Harry to talk about it with.  It's not like when we first became friends.”

“It doesn't matter,” Draco shook his head.  “The secrets will eat at you until there's nothing left.”

“I won't let that happen,” Hermione promised. 

“Neither will I,” Draco kissed her. 


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione and Draco slept fitfully until the sun started to rise again, tossing and turning and waking each other from nightmares.  Hermione bled through the bandages on her arm twice, and when the potions eventually wore off she found herself in so much pain she could barely breath.

Draco woke at the sound of her whimpering, thinking she'd had another nightmare, only to find her paralyzed by the pain leftover from taking the Cruciatus so many times. 

“Shh, shh, I'm sorry.” He tried to soothe her, rushing around the room to find a pain potion. 

Hermione lay as still as she could, every movement bringing unbearable pain.

“Here,” Draco lifted her head carefully, wincing as she cried out.  “I know, I'm sorry.  It'll be better in a minute.”  He stroked her hair softly as the potion took effect, letting out a relieved sigh when he felt her muscles relax and saw the pain seep from her face. “I'm sorry, I should have given you another dose of potion earlier,” he shook his head. "I'm an idiot!"

“It's fine,” Hermione shook her head.  “I forgot about it too.”

“You've bled through the bandages again,” Draco frowned at her arm.  “That shouldn't be happening anymore.  I'm going to get Fleur, she seems to know a bit more about healing than I do.” 

“No,” she shook her head again, grabbing his arm.  “Just- just stay here for a minute.”

He realized that she was panting and quickly crouched down beside the bed. “What's wrong?  What is it?” He demanded, his eyes raking across her body for further injuries.

“Nothing, it's just the potions,” she assured him, sitting up slowly.  “I'm just... a little out of breath.”

“You're sure?” Draco asked, still looking worried as he helped her. 

“I'm sure,” she smiled softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek.  “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he rolled his eyes.  “It's _you_ we're worried about right now.”

“No, _you're_ worrying about me,” Hermione shook her head.  “ _I'm_ worrying about you.  That's how relationships work, if I remember correctly.”

“If you say so,” Draco frowned.  “But I think you're wrong.”

“I'm never wrong.” She patted his cheek a little harder than he thought necessary, smiling.  “Haven't you heard?  I'm an insufferable know-it-all.”

“I wouldn't love you if you weren't,” he chuckled, moving to sit on the bed and kissing her softly. 

Eager to make up for the months they had lost now that she wasn't in pain, Hermione was quick to pull him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair.  Draco had been more than happy to comply with her wishes, wanting nothing more than to feel her lips on his until the end of time, but before they could get too enthralled with each other there was a sharp knock and the bedroom door opened.

“Good you're u- ugh!” Harry stepped into the room and clamped a hand over his eyes.  “Malfoy, get off her!  It's too early to feel this sick.”

“Morning, Potter,” Draco frowned. 

“Yeah, hi.  Hermione, are you alright?” Harry asked, trying to see his friend around Draco.

“Fine,” she forced a smile, earning a glare from her boyfriend. “Is Fleur up?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry nodded distractedly. “She just sent me to see if you were up.  She wanted to make sure you were taking the pain potions.”

“Definitely,” Hermione chuckled breathily. “Yeah, I just took one.”

“Okay, good,” Harry nodded again, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the situation he had just walked in on.  “Um, well, there's breakfast whenever you're ready.  And then we need to, you know, talk.”

“I'll be there soon.”

Understanding that he had been dismissed, Harry nodded quickly and stepped back into the hallway, though he left the door open.

“Wow,” Draco scoffed. “I feel like we've just been caught by your father.”

“He's just... wary,” Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I mean, he was really good about it when I told him, for the most part- far better than Ron- but it's still an adjustment.  You just have to give him time.”

“Yeah, we didn't get around to talking about that last night, did we?" Draco frowned. "Care to share?”

“Later,” she smiled.  “It's kind of a long story.  We should get up now.”

“You need to let me rebandage your arm.”  

“Just leave it for now,” Hermione shook her head.  “It's fine.”

“It's not fine,” he shook his head.  “It's practically dripping.”

“Draco, please, just leave it,” she begged.  “I don't want to deal with it right now.”

“At least let me wrap the bandages,” he huffed.  “If I don't, you're going to get blood everywhere.”

Hermione gave him an annoyed glare, but held out her arm to let him wrap another layer of bandages around it.  

* * *

“Oh, you're still here,” Ron grumbled as Draco and Hermione walked into the dining room.

“Ron, behave,” his sister-in-law hissed. 

“I just didn't expect him to be here still,” he argued petulantly, glaring at Draco.

“Where did you think he was going to go?” Hermione glared back, sitting down in the chair Draco held out for her. 

“I don't know, back to the pit he crawled out of?” Ron shrugged.

Harry kicked his friend under the table, making him jump.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione pursed her lips.  “Fleur, would you mind taking a look at my arm again?”

“Of course,” the blonde woman nodded.  “Eez eet 'urting you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.  I'm just not an expert in healing,” Hermione waved her off, ignoring the pointed look Draco was giving her. 

“Okay, I will look at eet after you 'ave eaten zomezing,” Fleur nodded.  “Ere, 'ave zome toast.”

“Oh, I'm not really hungry-” Hermione tried to wave the plate off, but stopped when she saw the looks she was getting from the rest of the table.  “But toast sounds good,” she huffed.

“Zat eez what I zought,” Fleur's smile bore a disconcerting resemblance to her mother-in-law's. 

Silence fell over the table as Hermione picked at her breakfast, glaring at Draco each time he prodded her to take another bite.

“She doesn't need you telling her what to do,” Ron growled when he noticed this. 

“Ron,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“What?!” his friend demanded.  “How is it not driving you nuts watching him push her around?!”

“He's not pushing her around, he's telling her to eat,” Harry said calmly.  “We've both done it on multiple occasions, he's worried about her.”

“We're all worried about her,” Ron snapped.  “And it's his fault-”

“ENOUGH!” Hermione's fist slammed down on the table as she stood, startling everyone- including herself.  “That's enough!”

“Hermione-” Draco reached out to her, but she ripped her hand away from him.

“NO!” she snapped.  “No, I'm not going to just sit here and let him talk about you like that!  None of this is Draco's fault, Ron.  Without him we would be dead, so you can take your self-righteous, goaded, judgemental attitude and shove it up your arse!  Draco and I are a couple, and Draco is a member of the Order, deal with it!”

Silence fell over the room as she shouted, Bill and Harry watching her with their mouths hanging open while Ron stared at his hands, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Okay,” he finally sighed. 

“Okay?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he looked up at her sadly.  “Okay.  I get it.  I get that you and Malfoy are... whatever you are, and I get that you think he's a good guy, I don't agree with you, but I suppose I trust you.  What I don't get, is why you told Harry and not me?”

“Honestly?” She sat back down, relaxing slightly as Ron's temper began to dissipate.  “Because you weren't there to tell, and I knew that you would be angry, and I just couldn't deal with that.  There are far more important issues at hand.”

“Why would you assume that I would be angry?” Ron asked, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Because you _are_ angry!" Hermione cried, gesturing to him sharply. " _This_ is what anger looks like.”

“Yeah, I know.  I- I'm not angry at you though,” he deflated again.  “I just- I need time to digest this.”

“Digesting doesn't include screaming bloody murder,” she glared.

“I know,” Ron nodded apologetically.  “I know, I'm sorry.  You don't deserve that- especially not right now.  I- I'm sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” she smiled softly, reaching across the table to take his hand.  “I know this is an adjustment and I don't expect you all to become best mates suddenly, I'm just asking you to trust me and know that I know what I'm doing.”

“I _do_ trust you,” Ron assured her.  “Of course I trust you.  It's just- it's _Malfoy._ ”

“That, right there,” Hermione frowned, pulling her hand back.  “That's the tone that makes me want to smack you silly.” 

“I don't think there's anything he can do about the tone,” Harry offered nervously. 

“Maybe not, but he can do something about the face he makes when he says Draco's name,” Hermione snapped. 

“I don't know if he can,” the blond finally spoke up.  “I think his face looks like that all the time.”

“Draco, be quiet,” his girlfriend hissed.  “I can only deal with one petty man at a time.”

He held his hands up in surrender and went back to picking at the plate of eggs Fleur had given him.

“If you trust me, you'll stop looking at Draco like he's a murderer and accept that he's on our side,” Hermione said with finality. 

Ron looked like he wanted to argue this fact, but a quick glance around the room told him that would be a mistake.  Not only did Hermione look like she was about to hex him, but the rest of the room seemed to be on her side and he didn't have a lot of good will left with his brother after running out on his friends before Christmas.  Knowing when to admit his losses, he took a few deep breaths and nodded.  
“I trust you,” he huffed.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled again.  “So, can this be the end of fighting about Draco?”

“For now,” Ron acquiesced.  “I maintain the right to fight about him when there are less important things to deal with.”

“And I maintain the right to hex your bollocks off,” Hermione shrugged.

Draco couldn't help himself, when he saw the blood drain from Weasley's face and the panicked look in his eyes, he burst out laughing.

“I don't know what you find so amusing,” Hermione turned on him.  “The same goes for you.  And you-” she turned to Harry.

Both men turned as pale as Ron and nodded tersely, their hands moving to cover themselves of their own accord.

“Right, now that that's settled, Fleur would you mind taking a look at this?” Hermione held up her arm slightly, suddenly realizing how much it was hurting her.

“Of course,” Fleur smiled, not bothering to hide her amusement.  “Come with me.”   
She led Hermione out of the dining room and upstairs to her own bedroom, summoning her healing supplies and setting to work to figure out why the cuts were still bleeding.

* * *

 

While the girls were upstairs, Draco took the opportunity to ask Bill Weasley about the missing students at Hogwarts.

“Have they contacted the Order?” he asked.  “Are they safe?”

“They have,” Bill assured him.  “Longbottom's got everything under control, says they're perfectly safe and well hidden.”

“That's good,” Draco sighed in relief.  “We were worried.”

“We?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Not every Slytherin is a Death Eater,” Draco said blandly.  “Some of us are just trying to make it to graduation alive.”

“Like who?” Ron asked, a disbelieving frown on his face.

“Like the ones who have spent the last year protecting the students that the Carrows haul in for punishments,” Draco sneered.  “The ones who hide first and second years in broom closets to keep them from being on the receiving end of Unforgivables.”

“And these are Slytherin students?” Bill asked, his tone not exactly accusatory, but certainly not as aghast as Ron or Harry's. 

“Yes, they're Slytherins,” Draco huffed.  “They're the only ones who can get away with it.  The other houses are too busy trying to keep themselves safe, Slytherins are the only ones the Carrows trust.  They don't even care about blood status anymore, they just like hexing kids.”

“So Crabbe and Goyle have been running around hiding little firsties in broom closets?” Ron scoffed.

“No, not them,” Draco's shoulders slumped.  “They're as bad as the Carrows.”

“Who then?” Harry asked.  “If they're trying to help, the Order can offer them protection.”

“No they can't,” Draco shook his head.  “Not now, at least.”

“But they will when things come to a head,” Bill reasoned.  “If there are kids fighting against their Death Eater family beliefs, you need to tell us.  We can make sure they're safe in the long run.”

“Hermione said we have to trust you,” Harry said.  “That means you have to trust us, too.  If there's a way the Order can help, Bill will make sure they do.”

Draco studied the men in front of him, weighing the costs and benefits of giving up his friends- even if it was for their own safety. 

“You can trust us,” Bill insisted.  “I swear, I'll make sure they're safe.”

From the corner of his eye, Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione standing in the doorway and saw her give an almost imperceptible nod. 

“Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and the Greengrass sisters,” he sighed. "There are others that take pity on the younger kids sometimes, but they're the ones that won't torture anyone.  They're as important to the safety of the students as Longbottom."

“Thank you,” Bill said sincerely, getting to his feet and clapping Draco on the shoulder.  “I have a meeting planned with Kingsley this afternoon, you should come with me, we'll discuss plans for their safety.”

“They don't need to be kept safe now,” Draco shook his head.  “We play the part perfectly, our entire lives have depended on it.  What we need is protection when this is all over.”

“And you'll have it,” Bill promised.  “All of you.”


	18. Chapter 18

Draco and Hermione barely saw each other in the weeks at Shell Cottage, despite the small space.  Hermione spent all her waking hours locked in a room with Ron, Harry and Griphook planning whatever secret schemes they'd come up with, while Draco sat with Bill and Kingsley for hours on end giving them all the information he could on the current Death Eater situation.  The only time the two of them spent together was at night, where they kept each other safe from the nightmares. It was enough, though.  At least they were together- until they weren't. 

* * *

 

The morning that Hermione and the boys left, Draco almost bit through his tongue stopping himself from begging her to stay.

“I'll come back to you.” She promised, her forehead pressed against his as they said their goodbyes.  “It's all going to be over soon, and we'll be together.”

“I know,” Draco forced a smile.  “We'll be together soon.”

“Hermione?” Harry knocked cautiously, speaking through the door.  “Hermione, we have to go.”

“I'll be right there,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying. 

“It's okay,” Draco pulled her into a tight hug, his hand carefully cupping the back of her head.  “You need to go.”

“Yeah.” She breathed deeply, soaking in the scent that was so quintessentially Draco, letting it surround her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him soundly, her hands tangling in his hair while his wrapped tightly around her waist.  When they'd both run out of breath, Hermione pushed away from him quickly in an attempt to hide her tears, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him before she could turn the knob. 

“Draco-”

“I love you,” he cupped her face in his hands, staring at her earnestly.  “I just- I need you to know that.”

Hermione stared back at him for a second, shocked by his sudden outburst, then lunged towards him again, burying her face in his neck and locking her arms around his neck.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

And then she was gone.

* * *

 

“You look like you could use un ami,” Fleur offered as she made lunch, tired of watching Draco sit at the table moping.

“I'm fine,” he tried to wave her off, but the French woman wasn't buying it.

“I can see ze way you look at 'er,” she smiled kindly.  “You are most definitely not fine.  If it were Bill and I, I would need to talk.”

Draco shrugged listlessly, staring at his hands.

“So,” Fleur waved her spoon in a 'go ahead' gesture.  “I am offering to be your friend.”

“I don't really have friends,” Draco frowned uncertainly. 

“That's not surprising,” Bill quipped, wandering into the room.

“No, out!” Fleur whacked him with her spoon, making her husband jump.

“Ow!  What was that for?!”

“For being an arse 'ole,” she snapped.  “Now, go do somezing useful. Out!”

“Merlin woman, you could just ask, you know,” Bill huffed, taking an apple and heading outside.

“Parfait.” She set the stove to cook on its own and took a seat across from Draco.  “So, out with eet.”

“Out with what?” Draco sighed.

“Whatever eet ees you need to let out,” Fleur shrugged. 

Draco hemmed and hawed over this for a few minutes, not used to people offering to be a listening ear for him, and not knowing whether or not he could trust her.  He barely knew this woman, after all.

“Draco, I may not know 'Ermione very well, but I know zat she cares about you," Fleur spoke up again. "She would not want you to stir like zis.”

She was right about that, if nothing else, Draco mused.  Hermione hated it when he kept all his thoughts and emotions to himself, she was always telling him to speak his mind. 

When he still didn't speak up, though, Fleur thought it best to give him a specific starting point. “I deed not spend much time at 'Ogwarts, but I know you and 'Ermione were not close.  What 'appened?”

“She found me having a nervous breakdown and offered to help,” Draco smiled fondly at the memory.  “I kept trying to get rid of her, but she's too stubborn for her own good.”

“You sound like Bill.  When 'e was bitten, 'e spent months trying to get rid of me,” Fleur shared.  “Men like you, you need women like 'Ermione and I.”

“Yeah, that's what she said,” Draco agreed.

“Well, zey don't call 'er ze brightest witch of 'er age for nozing,” Fleur grinned.  “You love her.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Draco found himself nodding immediately.

“When deed you know?” 

* * *

 

_They had been working on the cabinet for a few weeks, and they were slowly getting more comfortable with each other.  If nothing else, their arguments had become far less violent, and they were willing to at least share small pieces of information about themselves._

_“If only it had been a wardrobe instead of a cabinet,” Hermione sighed wistfully._

_“Is there really a difference?” Draco asked in a bored tone._

_“Of course there is.  One would have fulfilled a childhood dream of mine, the other is simply dull.”_

_“Your childhood dream was to spend your every waking hour worrying about fixing a useless and, quite frankly, ugly antique?” he smirked._

_“No, Malfoy,” Hermione glared.  “I wanted to find a magical wardrobe that would transport me to a far off land.”_

_“You had a rather active imagination as a child, didn't you Granger?”_

_“Don't be a prick,” she chided.  “There was a muggle book series that I read when I was little about a magical wardrobe that transported a girl and her siblings to a far off magical land, and I always wanted to find a wardrobe like that.”_

_“Well in that case,” Draco got to his feet and gave her a deep bow, gesturing comically to the cabinet.  “Your wish is granted.  Use the next two wisely.”_

_Hermione laughed despite herself, shaking her head at the absolute ridiculousness of the situation, and then she thought about what he'd just said._

_“Hang on, what do you mean 'two more wishes'?”_

_“Are you not familiar with the concept of a genie, Granger?”_

_“Oh, I'm perfectly familiar with the concept,” she assured him.  “I'm wondering how you are.  Genies are muggle folklore, they don't have a wizarding equivalent.”_

_“I'm aware of that,” Draco assured her.  “I'm not as sheltered as I appear, Granger.  I've read my share of muggle novels.”_

_He wasn't looking at her, but Draco could tell by the silence that she was staring at him in shock._

_“Don't look so surprised,” he drawled._

_“You're not even looking at me!”_

_“That's how palpable the surprise is.”_

_“Well, can you blame me?” she asked.  “The great Draco Malfoy, pureblood of all purebloods, admitting that he's read classic muggle literature?  It's a bit shocking.”_

_“No more shocking than the great Hermione Granger helping a Death Eater.”_

_“Don't call yourself that,” she snapped, making it Draco's turn to look surprised.  “And don't give me that look.”_

_“You're not even looking at me,” Draco echoed her earlier statement._

_“I think we've spent enough time together in the last month that I know what your face looks like,” Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Look, I don't know if I would qualify what's happening here as a friendship, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you call yourself that.”_

_“Why?” he scoffed.  “It's true.”_

_“It's not!” Hermione insisted._

_“This would beg to differ,” he sneered, ripping his sleeve open to bare the Dark Mark on his arm._

_“Oh please,” Hermione rolled her eyes.  “That's nothing more than some magically imbued ink.  You're no more a Death Eater than I am.”_

_She said it with such conviction, as though she had never even thought twice about whether or not it was true.  And then she just turned back to analyzing the cabinet, as if she hadn't just turned Draco's entire life on end._

_“Are you going to stare at me for the rest of the night, or are you going to help?” she called over her shoulder after another minute of silence.  “Because if I get this working without you, you'd better believe I'm going to take the credit- fuck the Dark Lord.”_  

* * *

 

“That was when.” Draco finished his story happily.  “I mean, I didn't know it then, but now that I think about it, that was the moment.”

“A razer spectacular one at zat,” Fleur chuckled.  “Was zat really ze phrase she used- Fuck ze Dark Lord?”

“Yeah,” Draco laughed along with her.  “It became a kind of mantra for us.”

“Inspiring,” Fleur nodded approvingly. 

“What's inspiring?” Bill joined them again, taking a seat beside his wife.

“Didn't I kick you out?” she frowned at him. 

“It didn't stick,” he shrugged.  “So, Malfoy, what's inspiring?”

“Mine and Hermione's mantra.”

“Which is?”

“Fuck ze Dark Lord,” Fleur giggled.  “C'est magnifique!”

“Well I can't argue with that,” Bill chuckled along with her.  “Why didn't we think of it- _don't_ answer that!”

Draco smiled and put his hands up in compliance. 

“So, what's for lunch?” Bill asked, getting up and sniffing around the hob.


	19. Chapter 19

When the call came out over the wireless informing them that Harry was at Hogwarts, Draco had never been happier.  If Harry was at Hogwarts, that meant Hermione was too. 

“We have to go!” he insisted childishly, pushing Bill towards the fireplace. 

“Calm down,” the redhead rolled his eyes.  “Just wait a second.”

“No, we have to help them!” Draco argued.  “Come on!”

“We will go in un moment,” Fleur patted his arm comfortingly.  “First, we must contact Arthur and Molly.”

While Bill floo called his parents, Draco paced the kitchen wand in hand, desperate to get a move on. 

“Who is that?” Arthur asked, noticing the movement behind his son.

“Draco Malfoy,” Bill chuckled. 

“WHAT!” Ginny Weasley shoved her father out of the way, sticking her own head through the fire.  “What in Merlin's saggy left bollock is _he_ doing there?!”

“You really do make friends wherever you go, don't you mate?” Bill turned to give Draco an amused smile. 

“It's a talent,” he said sarcastically.  “Can we speed this up?”

“WHY IS HE IN YOUR HOUSE?!?!” Ginny screeched, not one to be ignored. 

“Because he's on our side Ginevra,” Bill huffed.  “He's been spying for the Order since last year.”

“Yeah right,” she scoffed.  “You seriously let him play you like that?”

“Hey, Hermione was the one that brought home the stray,” her brother shrugged.  “You can take it up with her.”

“What?!”

“We'll see you soon,” Bill smirked and stepped away from the flames, allowing them to extinguish.

“ _Now_ can we go?!” Draco demanded.

“Merlin, you're a child,” Bill rolled his eyes.

“'E is just worried about 'Ermione,” Fleur smiled understandingly. “Let 'im be, Bill.”

She patted Draco's arm again, then lead them all through the fireplace to the Hog's Head, where Aberforth Dumbledore stood waiting for them. 

“Interesting company you're keeping, Weasley,” Aberforth quipped, looking Draco up and down.

“Yeah, my little brother brought him home one night," Bill shrugged indifferently. "Always wanted a pet.”

“Ha ha,” Draco sneered at him, before turning to Aberforth expectantly.  “Where's Hermione?”

“Right through there, lad,” Aberforth pointed to a large hole in the wall.  “It'll take you straight into the school.”

He was up and through the tunnel before the bar owner had even finished speaking, forcing Bill and Fleur to jog to catch up to him.

“I am sure she eez fine,” Fleur offered. 

“Because she was so fine last time?” Draco snapped.  “We don't even know where they were!”

“Well, you're about to find out,” Bill stopped at the end of the tunnel, a doorway appearing before them.  “Best let me go in first, though.”

Draco nodded and took a step back, allowing Bill and Fleur to enter the room ahead of him so as to stop anyone from trying to kill him on sight.  Unfortunately, his arrival with the eldest Weasley brother had no effect on the way his fellow students reacted, and Draco was met by various outraged cries and raised wands.

Bill and Fleur both spoke over the crowd, trying to explain that everything was fine, but it was Hermione that brought silence to the room as she sprinted forward and threw herself at him, kissing him soundly.

“Told you I'd come back,” she smirked against his lips.

Draco didn't bother answering her, he simply buried his face in her hair and relished in the feeling of holding her.  Could it really have only been a day since he'd last seen her?

“Are you okay?” He finally asked, taking a step back and holding her at arm's length so he could look at her properly, scanning for obvious injuries. 

“I'm fine,” she promised.  “Everything went... relatively to plan.”   
Draco must have made a very disgruntled face at this comment, because she smiled softly and patted his cheek. "I promise, I'll tell you everything, but right now we don't have time.”

They turned to face the many eyes watching their every move and Hermione threaded her fingers through his, smiling.   
“Draco has been working for the Order since last year,” Hermione assured everyone.  “He's on our side, I promise.”

“We sort of had our suspicions,” Neville admitted, appearing beside them.  “What with the way you refused to torture anyone.”

He held his hand out to Draco, to everyone's surprise- especially Draco's.  The blond hadn't even realized that he was staring until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, jarring him from his stupor.

“Uh, thanks,” he took Neville's outstretched hand and shook it. 

“We're all on the same side now,” Neville shrugged.  “Bygones, and all that.  Anybody have any objections?” He turned and looked around the room at the stunned, angry faces, and while many people looked like they desperately wanted to protest, nobody did.  “Good.”

Neville nodded and stepped down from the doorway, the others following behind him as the door swung open again to reveal the rest of the Weasley clan.

“Hermione Jean Granger!” Ginny screeched, rushing down the steps to catch up to the curly haired brunette.  “What in Merlin's name is going on?!”

“Hi Ginny,” Hermione pulled the girl into a tight hug, then turned her to face the other side of the room.  “Harry's missed you.”

“Oh!” All else was forgotten as the redhead caught site of Potter watching her every move from across the room, and she pushed past the crowd to get to him. 

“Nice save,” Bill smirked.  “She just about hexed him through the fireplace earlier.”

“Well I'm rather attached,” Hermione shrugged, taking hold of Draco's arm.  “It'd be a shame if she ruined such a pretty face.”

“Thanks,” Draco rolled his eyes, taking her hand again.

As Ginny and Harry embraced, more people started coming through the passage, and more and more questions were shouted.  When Fred and George Weasley eventually separated their sister from her 'specky git boyfriend', Harry was forced to pay attention to the room at large- only to make them even angrier by saying they weren't there to fight.

“Then what are you here for?” Draco leaned down to whisper to Hermione.

“Wait, why can't they help?” Ron muttered, pulling Harry aside. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry hissed.  “We can't tell them anything.”

“Harry, you said it yourself that we don't have time,” Hermione joined them. “We don't have to tell them what it really is, but we could use their help finding it.”

Harry seemed to consider this, then nodded and faced the crowd again, babbling about needing to find something.  Draco wasn't really paying attention until Luna spoke up about the Diadem of Ravenclaw. 

“She's kidding, right?” he looked down at Hermione again.  “I mean, that's- a legend, a story.”

“It is not,” Luna argued airily.  “It's simply lost, which means it can be found.  There's a statue of it in our common room.”

“Great, can you show me?” Harry asked.

“I'd love to,” she beamed.  “Come on.”

Without another moment's hesitation, the lighthearted blonde girl took Harry by the hand and led him towards a door on the opposite end of the room.  As soon as they had disappeared, Ron and Hermione shuffled off to a corner of the room and began muttering furiously, obviously arguing about something.

“What's that about?” Neville appeared at Draco's shoulder, nodding towards the bickering pair. 

“I have no idea,” Draco frowned.  “But it doesn't look good.”

The pair argued for another moment, then Hermione smacked Ron in the back of the head and the redheaded man slumped in apparent agreement, following her towards the door Harry and Luna had exited through.

“OI!” Draco stormed after them, reaching out to grab Hermione's arm before she could get too far.  “Where are you going?”

“We have to get something,” she answered vaguely.  “From the second floor toilets.  We'll be back, I promise.” She kissed Draco on the cheek quickly, then ran off before he could try to stop her again, ignoring his shouts that she wasn't making sense.

“Hermione!” Ginny Weasley started to chase the girl, but was cut off by one of her brothers.  “Where the hell are they going?” she demanded of Draco.

“She said something about a bathroom,” he shook his head.  “I don't know.”

“Then what bloody use are you?!” She snapped, turning on her heels and storming back to the group gathered underneath a Gryffindor banner. 

Seeing as there wasn't a space for Slytherin, Draco skulked around the edges of the room, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.  It wasn't until Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin stepped into the room that anyone really took note of him. 

“So, it seems that tonight is the night,” Kingsley said.  “How do you feel, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I'm ready for all of this to be over.” Draco sighed, then let out a sharp gasp rubbing his Dark Mark through his shirt when it flared in pain.  “He knows Potter is here," he frowned, sensing it through the strained connection he still had with the Dark Lord. "He's coming, and he's bringing everything he's got.”

Before Kingsley or Remus could question this, Harry stormed the room, drawing everyone's attention.

“What's going on Harry?” Professor Lupin spoke up first.

“He's coming,” Harry panted.  “We're barricading the school- Snape's run for it.  How did you know to come, though?”

“We called in the rest of the Order,” one of the Weasley twins spoke up.  “Couldn't keep all the fun for ourselves.  So, what now?”

“They're evacuating the younger kids,” Harry said.  “We're fighting!”

An almighty cheer went up at this announcement, followed by a rush of movement as everyone stormed towards the doors, eager to get involved. 

“We're meeting in the Great Hall in twenty minutes!” Harry called after them.  “Report to your Heads of House!”

In a matter of minutes, the crowd had thinned to only the Weasley family, Lupin, Potter and Draco.  Mrs. Weasley was fighting with her daughter, obviously intent on keeping her away from the fighting, while the rest of the family nodded in vague agreement.  The youngest redhead had just declared that she would say her goodbyes and leave them all to die, when a body fell out of the portrait hole, breathing heavily and looking around wildly. 

“Have I missed it?  Has it started?” the misplaced redhead asked. 

All around Draco, the occupants of the room fell silent, staring at their missing family member in confusion. 

“So, 'ow eez Teddy?” Fleur asked suddenly, turning to Lupin with a desperate look in her eye.

“Oh, uh- yes, yes, he's wonderful,” Lupin stammered, patting down his pockets.  “I, uh, have a photograph here, somewhere...”

While Fleur, Harry and Draco pretended to be interested in the child, Percy Weasley stammered out an apology for abandoning his family.  While they were all distracted, Draco noticed Ginny trying to sneak up the stairs and bit back a smirk- she was certainly determined.

“GINNY!” her mother snapped, catching sight of the attempted escape.  “Get back here!”

While Lupin tried to broker a deal with Ginny and her parents in which the young redhead stayed in the room of requirement, but promised not to leave and join the battle, Harry pulled Draco aside.

“Where are Ron and Hermione?” he asked, looking around the room.  “I didn't see them pass me.”

“They ran out a few minutes after you and Lovegood left, she said something about a bathroom,” Draco shrugged.  “I'm not really sure.  Um, I guess I should go help evacuate the Slytherins?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry nodded, though Draco could tell he wasn't really paying close attention.  “You should do that, they'll listen to you.”

Draco nodded and quickly made his way to the door, more than happy to leave the Weasleys to their grovelling and crying. 

As he made his way down to the dungeons, he was careful to keep his head down, not wanting to be stopped by anyone who wasn't already aware of his allegiances.  Thankfully the only person he ran into was Professor McGonagall, who gave him an encouraging smile before rushing off to assemble the ghosts.  When he got to the Common Room, he found the door inside wide open and a huddled group of first and second years outside.

“Draco!” a small boy ran over to him, leaving the others huddled in their corner.  “You're back!”

“Yeah,” he smiled tightly.  “Where are Blaise and Theo?”

“Talking to Professor Slughorn,” the boy pointed inside nervously.  “They made us leave.  Professor Slughorn says we have to leave Hogwarts, but where are we going to go?”

“Don't worry,” Draco patted his shoulder.  “Everything's going to be alright.  I'm going to talk to Professor Slughorn, alright?  You go stay with the others and I'll explain everything soon.” He gave the first year a light shove towards his friends, then entered the common room cautiously.

“What are you doing here?!” Slughorn cried as Draco stepped through the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise.  “We heard you had been killed!”

“Not even close." Draco shook his head, turning to speak with his two best friends.  “You've heard what's going on?”

“Sluggy was just telling us,” Blaise frowned.  “McGonagall's flipped her lid or something?”

“What?” Draco frowned at the ageing professor.  “What are you on about?  _He's_ coming, and they're getting ready to fight.”

“And we're not invited,” the professor grumbled.  “Unless we are all ready to declare our loyalties.”

“Look around,” Draco glared, motioning across the room.  “I think our loyalties are pretty clear, do you see any of _H_ _is_ people around here?  Because I don't, I see a bunch of kids who are scared out of their minds and just want this all to be over.”

There was a number of quietly mumbled agreements from the older students, all of whom were gathered in a corner, away from the arguments. 

“McGonagall is right, it's time for us to take a side," Draco continued. "Do we want to live in a world under that bastard forever, or do we want to be free of Him?” 

“What do you want, Draco?” A third year girl spoke up, watching the proceedings nervously. 

“I want to be able to live my life the way _I_ want to,” he said honestly.  “I'm tired of living in fear, I have been for a long time, which is why I joined the Order of the Phoenix last year.”

There was a collective gasp at this announcement, followed by quiet murmurs and shocked glances. 

“The choice is yours,” Draco continued, raising his voice.  “And we all have to make that choice for ourselves, I can't make it for you and neither can Professor Slughorn, or your families, or anyone else.  The choice has to be yours!” He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each and every one of his housemates. “But you have to choose now.  We're gathering in the Great Hall to find out what's going to happen next.  It's your choice whether or not you join us, but I for one will be standing by Potter and his army.”

Without looking back, he turned and made his way out of the room again to speak to the younger children.

“You're with Potter?” A girl asked, her tone torn between disgust and confusion.

“I am.” Draco nodded, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the group.  “The Dark Lord, He's made me do some very bad things, things that I regret and would never want any of you to have to do.  You've seen what the Carrows have been doing, right?  The way they torture the other children?”

The group nodded, fear creeping into their eyes.

“I never want that to happen to anyone again,” Draco told them.  “And I don't want any of you to have to be scared anymore, _that's_ why I'm going to fight with Potter.  And you all are going to be sent away so that you're safe, okay?”

“What if we want to fight too?” a boy spoke up.

“You're not of age,” Draco gave him a small smile.  “Only those of age can stay and fight, but you can protect each other.  You know how people can feel about Slytherins, your fight is going to be showing them that we're not all like the Dark Lord.  Do you think you can do that?”

Slowly, but surely, each and every one of the children in front of him nodded, their faces taking on the solemn expressions of men and women on a mission. 

“Good,” Draco smiled.  “Then let's get to the Great Hall.”

“We're coming too.” Blaise stepped into the hall behind him, a large group at his back.  “You're right, it's time to take a side.”

* * *

 

When Pansy cried out for Potter's delivery to Voldemort, Draco could have killed her. He knew it was because she was scared, but hadn't he just given a rousing speech about choosing sides and declaring allegiances?  Now here she was, making the entire house out to be Death Eaters. 

McGonagall certainly seemed to think so, as she ordered the entire house escorted from the castle. There were multiple cries of outrage at this, but the Deputy Headmistress ignored them, turning her attention to her own outraged students, all of whom wanted to stay and show how brave they truly were.  Draco had no doubt that more than one of them would find a way to stay and fight, but he was more concerned about his own house.

“Oi, listen up! Listen to me!” He called them to attention.  “Just because you're not staying here, doesn't mean you can't help.  The other students are going to need to be taken care of, that's your job.  Take care of each other, and take care of the other students.  We can't let house loyalties divide us now.”

“Well said,” Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at his side. 

“We need to start evacuating now.” Draco mumbled, turning away from his housemates.  “He won't wait much longer.”   
He winced as the mark on his arm continued to burn, the pain getting worse every minute, calling him to his master's service. 

“Right,” Kingsley sighed.  “Lead your house out, then.  When you've seen them all safely away, come join us.”

Draco nodded and began leading the Slytherins out, Blaise and Theo falling into step beside him.

“I can't believe you didn't tell us,” Theo hissed angrily.  “Don't you trust us?”

“Of course I do,” Draco glared at him.  “But you and I both know that if I'd told you and it somehow slipped, we'd all be dead.  As it is, I spent the last year focusing all my energy on occlumency, trying to keep that noseless bastard out of my head.  I couldn't put that on anyone else, it was _my_ burden to bear.”

“Damn,” Blaise hissed, seemingly annoyed.  “That's a good reason.”

“Thanks,” Draco rolled his eyes.  “Listen, I've talked to Shacklebolt, told him that you lot have been taking care of the others, trying to keep everyone safe.  They know where your allegiances lie.”

“You say that now,” Theo frowned.  “But how are they going to feel about us tomorrow?”

“You'll be safe,” Draco promised.  “No matter what happens tonight, you'll all be safe.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Blaise shook his head.  “None of us know what's going to happen after tonight.  We could all be dead in the morning.”

“You can't think like that,” Draco hissed.  “You have to believe we have a chance.”

“I want to,” Blaise sighed.  “But I know how this goes.  We've all heard what happened the last time.”

“It's going to be different this time,” Draco persisted.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Theo scoffed.

“I do,” Draco said solemnly.  “I really do.”

When they reached the room of requirement, Draco pushed the door open and motioned for his House to go ahead of him, giving a few first years an encouraging push.

“Malfoy, what the hell is this?!” Ginny cried, pushing her way through the sea of Syltherins. 

“They're being evacuated,” Draco explained.  “Go show them the way out.  The other house's underage students should be here any minute.”

“And where do you think you're going?” Ginny demanded.

“To end this bloody mess,” he sneered.  “Have you got a problem with that?”

“Not if you take me with you,” she smirked. 

“Not on your life, Weasley,” he shook his head.  “Get the kids out safely, make sure none of your housemates can sneak back through the tunnel and get themselves killed.”

Draco turned back to Theo and Blaise, a determined look in his eye. “So, you still want to fight beside me?” he asked, remembering the many promises they had made to each other through the years to always have their backs.

“Well, I can't exactly let you go out there alone,” Theo huffed.  “You'll get yourself blown to pieces.”

Draco smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder appreciatively, then turned to Blaise.

“I- I've got a plan to keep the others safe,” he shook his head.  “I'm going to go with them.”

“One of your mother's houses?” Theo asked.

“Yeah, the one in Brighton has been empty for a few years now,” he nodded.  “They'll be safe there, all of them.”

Draco nodded.  “We'll find you when it's all over.” He held out his hand to Blaise, only to be pulled into a strong hug.

“You better not get yourself killed, Malfoy,” he huffed.  “It takes too long to train new friends.”

“I won't if you don't,” Draco promised.


	20. Chapter 20

It wasn't until everyone gathered in the Great Hall again that he really saw her.  He had been staring at the doors for what seemed like hours waiting for her to walk into the room.  When she finally did, his breath caught in his throat and his feet moved of their own volition, rushing across the room to capture her in his arms. 

“Thank Merlin,” he breathed, holding her tightly.  “You're alright.  You _are_ alright, aren't you?” He held her at arms length, studying her carefully, just as he had only a few hours earlier in the Room of Requirement. “Why do you smell like fire?  Is your hair burnt?!”

“Just a little singed,” Hermione shook her head.  “I'm fine, Draco, promise.  What about you?”

“Nothing seeing you didn't fix,” he forced a smile. 

“You're sweet,” she returned his smile, taking his face in her hands.  “You're also paler than usual.  Are you sure you're okay?”

“I've spent my night fighting people I spent my entire life looking up to, people I grew up with,” he sighed.  “I'm as okay as I can be, considering the circumstances.  I'm better than others.”

He turned to look at the Weasley family, all huddled around Fred's bedside, crying into each others' shoulders.

“Fred,” Hermione bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay.

“It's okay,” Draco pulled her into his arms again.  “It's okay.”

“It's not,” she sniffed.  “It's not okay!  He's dead!” 

“Shh,” Draco stroked her hair, leading her over to the corner he and Theo had been sitting in and pulling her into his lap.  “It's going to be alright.”

Hermione shook her head again, her face buried in his shoulder, then took a few deep breaths and sat up, wiping her eyes. 

“I know,” she nodded.  “I know.  It's not over yet, I can't do this yet.”

“Hermione, it's okay to be upset-”

“No!” she snapped.  “Not until it's over.  I can't fall apart until this is over.”

“And when will that be?” Theo asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“Soon,” Hermione promised.  “It will all be over soon.”

The three of them sat quietly for a minute, watching over the carnage that surrounded them, taking deep breaths and trying to put together the nights events until Hermione spoke again.

“Your parents,” she sat up suddenly, turning to Draco.  “Well, your father at least, he's still alive.”

“What?  How do you know?” he frowned.

“Harry saw...” she shook her head, awkwardly.  “I can't really explain it properly, but he was with Voldemort- your father.  He was worried about you.”

“Well, that's a first,” Draco scoffed. 

“Better you than me,” Theo quipped blandly.  “I'm pretty sure I passed dear old Dad breathing his last in one of the corridors.”

“Oh, Theo I'm sorry,” Hermione turned to the other man sincerely. 

“Don't be,” he shook his head.  “My only regret is that someone else got to him first, I was hoping to have the honours.”

“I'm still sorry.” Hermione frowned, not sure she believed that he was completely unaffected.

“Hermione?” Ginny Weasley approached the group nervously, her arms wrapped around herself.

Hermione jumped to her feet and pulled the younger girl into her arms.  “I'm so sorry, what can I do?”

“I don't know,” Ginny shook her head.  “It's like it's not even real, you know?”

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded understandingly.  “Yeah, I know.”

“I-I was looking for Harry,” Ginny sniffed.  “I thought he'd be with you, but...”

“I thought he was with _you_ ,” Hermione frowned.

“No,” Ginny stepped back, a terrified look in her eyes.  “Hermione, where is he?”

“I-I'm sure he's just stepped out for some air.” Hermione promised, but Draco noted the way her voice just barely wavered.  “I'll go have a look, okay?  You should go be with the others, you need each other right now.”

“You'll find him?” Ginny confirmed.

“I'll find him.” Hermione forced a smile and gave her friend another hug before pushing her back towards her family and turning to Draco.

“What's wrong?” He asked. 

“My best friend is an idiot,” she hissed, a look of fury passing over her.  “An honest to Merlin idiot and I swear to Morgana and all her bloody descendants that, when I get my hands on him, I'm going to kill him.”

“Okay, take a breath,” Draco put his hands on her shoulders.  “Explain.”

“He's gone to the forest,” she said, hands shaking in a mixture of anger and turmoil.  “He's gone to give himself up to protect everyone.”

“Are you sure?” Theo frowned. 

“I'm sure.” Hermione looked around desperately, her breathing getting faster as her anger turned to panic.  “I need to get out of here.  I can't- I can't-” She grabbed at her chest desperately, feeling as though the room was closing in around her.

“Come on,” Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and whisked her through the hall, into the courtyard, where he leaned her against a wall.  “Just take deep breaths.”

“Harry,” she gasped desperately, tears pouring down her cheeks again.  “Harry, he-” she shook her head, unable to say the words out loud.

“You don't know that,” Draco shook his head, holding her steady.  “You know Potter, he's like a cat with all his lives and quick exits and magic getaways.”

“Not this time,” Hermione sobbed and shook her head.  “I don't think even Harry can twist his way out of this.”

 

* * *

 

They were helping carry the wounded into the castle when the army started approaching, the sound of hundreds of feet marching across the grounds drawing them outside to see what was going on.

“No!” Hermione gasped as the Death Eaters got close enough to be seen.  “No, Harry.”

Before Draco could try to contradict her, Voldemort's high-pitched voice pierced the air.

“HARRY POTTER, IS DEAD!”

There were shrieks of disbelief and outrage, from the corner of his eye Draco saw Ginny Weasley's father restrain her as she struggled to raise her wand, screaming vilely at the Dark Lord.  Draco wasn't listening to her, though. He was more focussed on the fact that his parents were standing fifty feet away from him, flanking their master, and Hermione's hand had slipped out of his somehow.

Ignoring the desperate look his mother was giving him, Draco turned away, desperately searching the crowd for Hermione.  He found her a few feet away, whispering anxiously with Ron and breathed a momentary sigh of relief- the moment passed when he heard Voldemort call for everyone to declare their loyalty to him. 

Silence fell over the courtyard as the seemingly defeated army looked around defiantly, none of them offering even the slightest hint of surrender. 

“Draco.” His father's voice echoed across the divide, followed by his mother's, her hand held out to him pleadingly.

In an instant, Hermione was at his side again, one hand twining their fingers together, the other holding tightly to his bicep. 

“Don't,” she whispered.  “Please, Draco.  He'll kill you.”

He nodded, knowing she was right, but unable to peel his eyes from the desperate look on his mother's face. 

“Draco.” Hermione's hand reached up and gently guided his face down to hers.  “Look at me.  Don't look at them, look at me.”

It was like ripping part of his heart from his chest, but he did it, moving his eyes from the other side of the courtyard to the beautiful witch beside him, the woman he loved, his hand reaching out to cup her face.  He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, focussing on the feel of Hermione's hair between his fingers and her forehead against his, trying to block out the image of his parents' desperate looks.

And then everything was silent and Voldemort's voice pierced through him like a knife, reminding him exactly why he was standing there.  Harry Potter was dead, and it was time for Voldemort to die too.

“What do we do?” He asked Hermione, gripping his wand tightly, steeling himself for whatever came next.

“The snake has to die,” she said quietly.  “It's the only way for this to be over, Ron and I have to kill the snake.  We have to keep fighting.”

Draco nodded solemnly, his jaw set in determination.  He took Hermione's hand again and together they watched in horror as Neville broke free of the crowd and was subsequently used as a lesson for others who would dare to defy the Dark Lord.

Suddenly, Longbottom was no longer being taught a lesson, but breaking free of the curse set upon him and pulling a sword seemingly out of nowhere- the same sword Bellatrix had tortured Hermione for- and in the blink of an eye, Nagini was dead.  Voldemort screamed in pain, turning his fury on the errant Gryffindor, only to be stopped by Potter.  And then everything was a blur. 

Fighting broke out amongst the two factions, yet again, and it was all Draco could do to block the hexes and curses being aimed at himself and Hermione as they retreated into the castle.  Throughout all the fighting, however, he never lost his hold on her hand, and he was thankful for that small blessing.

“Where's Harry?” she cried, looking around wildly for her friend.  “Where's he gone?”

“I don't know- Duck!” Draco pushed her down and hexed a Death Eater that had snuck around the side of their lines. 

“Nice one,” Theo offered, hexing another foe over Draco's shoulder.  “Perhaps some cover would do us good, though?”

“Get inside!” Harry's voice rose above the chaos.  “Into the castle, everyone!”

 

* * *

 

One by one, Voldemort's most loyal subjects fell to the Hogwarts army, until finally there was only the Dark Lord left, circling Potter like a predator about to pounce on his prey.

“I don't want anyone to help me!” Harry yelled, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's.  “It's got to be just the two of us.  No one else can help!”

Knowing that this declaration of independence would do nothing to stop Hermione from helping her friend, Draco trapped her in a vicelike grip, desperate to keep her from any more harm.  He had lost too much today, they all had, he wasn't about to lose her as well.  Judging by the way Hermione latched onto him, however, it seemed that she was feeling the same way.  He could feel the tiny crescent marks of her nails digging into his arm as they watched the last two fighters circle each other, unravelling all the secrets that had been kept since Voldemort's return. 

And then it was over, and Voldemort was dead, and cheers went up as the entire room surged towards Potter, Hermione breaking free and tackling him in a hug before anyone else could reach him.


	21. Chapter 21

Draco wasn't new to the concept of celebrating, he'd had a part in his fair share of parties following Quidditch matches and such, but nothing could have prepared him for the almighty uproar that followed Potter's defeating Voldemort.  It was as though the whole world slowed down and sped up, all at the same time.  One moment Hermione's hand was clasped tightly in his, the next she was hurtling across the room and throwing herself at her best friend, only a few steps ahead of the rest of the room.  Draco stood stock still, watching the scene play out before him as though through a pensieve, the shouts and whoops of victory echoing as though a million miles away.

He wasn't sure how, but eventually he found himself in the owlery sending a message to Blaise.  When he returned, the chaos had subsided and a somber mood encased the Great Hall as the wounded were cared for and the dead identified.

He scanned the room and saw Hermione sitting with the Weasley family, all huddled around the fallen son.  A little ways away from them, Potter was moving from one bedside to the next, shaking each and every hand thrust towards him.  Madame Pomfrey flitted between beds administering potions and healing spells, as did Fleur Weasley and another witch that Draco didn't recognize.  It wasn't until he turned to the farthest corner of the room, though, that Draco found who he was looking for.

“Hey.” He slid to the floor beside Theo Nott, relishing in the feeling after so many hours on his feet. 

Theo didn't look at him, simply put his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“You alright?”

“Honestly?” His friend turned to look at him.  “I've never felt lighter.  Is that bad?”

“If it is, we're both guilty,” Draco shrugged.

Theo nodded slowly, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on top of them. 

The two boys sat like this, simply breathing in the tranquility that their lives had been lacking for so long, until they were joined by a witch with wild brown hair.

“I was wondering where you'd got to,” Hermione smiled down at Draco warmly, running her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails across his scalp softly.

Draco leaned into her touch, his own hands wandering to her thighs and pulling her down to sit in his lap- it had been a long night and he just needed to hold her in his arms and know that she was safe.  Hermione didn't hesitate to respond, settling comfortably between his legs with his arms wrapped tightly around her, her head resting against his shoulder calmly.    
It wasn't until Theo let out a rather sharp cough that they realised how odd a picture they must have made- as far as most people knew, they hated each other.

“Something you'd like to share?” Theo asked, eyebrows arched expectantly.

“Right, uh, Hermione and I are dating,” Draco offered lamely, his face turning red.  “Did I not mention that before?”

“Must have slipped your mind.  Exactly how long have you two been...” he waved between them vaguely, not sure exactly what he was trying to ask.

“A year.”

“WHAT?!”

Hermione flinched as Theo jumped to his feet, instinctively reaching for her wand.

“Theo, calm down,” Draco hissed.  “You're drawing attention.”

“ _I'm_ drawing attention?!” Theo laughed maniacally.  “You're the one who's cuddled up with Hermione Granger.”

“You're the one shouting loud enough for all of Hogsmeade to hear!” Draco argued.  “Sit down, will you?”

Theo looked at his friend like he'd lost his mind, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words.  Eventually, however, he did sit, and faced the couple expectantly.

“Well? I'm waiting for some sort of explanation,” he huffed.  “How the fuck did you hide the fact that you've been dating Granger for a year?!”

“With great care and plenty of scheming?” Draco shrugged, earning an elbow to the gut from the witch in his arms.  “Ow!”

“Okay,” Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and avoid punching his best friend in the teeth.  “You took the mark last August, were given two tasks that almost killed you, and then spent the last year living with Snake Eyes.”

“Correct,” Draco nodded.

“You were a Death Eater- a reluctant one,” he clarified quickly,  “but a Death Eater nonetheless.  You're telling me that whole time, you were secretly in a relationship with the Gryffindor Princess here, and no one was any the wiser?”

“It wasn't the _whole_ time,” Draco argued lamely.  “Just... most of it.”

“I swear to Salazar, Draco, if you don't start connecting these dots I'm going to hex you,” Theo growled, grinding his teeth in annoyance.

“We became friendly in October,” Draco finally explained, figuring it best to start at the beginning.  “Hermione stumbled upon me when I was trying to fix the cabinet and we got into an argume-”

“-You had a nervous breakdown,” Hermione corrected quietly.

“Shh,” Draco frowned at her.  “We had an argument, one thing lead to another and I told her that He was trying to kill me.”

“Okay.” Theo waved his hand in a 'get to the point' motion, deciding to let the vagueness of that description go.

“She offered to help me.”

“Excuse me?” Theo frowned.

“I spilled my guts to her, sobbed like a baby, and she decided that she was going to help me fix the cabinet,” Draco summed up.

“Why in the actual fuck would you do that?” Theo demanded, looking at Hermione like she'd lost her mind.

“He needed help.” She shrugged as though she had done nothing more than offer to make him a cup of tea, or drop off a book in the library.

Theo looked back at Draco incredulously and the blonde only shook his head.

“She's too stubborn for her own good,” he shrugged.  “There wasn't any talking her out of it.”

“The phrase you're looking for, as usual, is 'thank you',” Hermione glared at her boyfriend.

“I _have_ thanked you,” he argued.  “Now hush, I'm telling a story.”

Theo would have thought this admonition would result in a stinging hex, but Hermione simply raised an eyebrow and settled back against the blond's chest, her hand holding tightly to the arm wrapped across her chest.

“Right, so she insisted that she was going to help me get the cabinet working,” Draco went back to his story.  “And things just sort of snowballed from there.”

“How does an idiotic act of Gryffindor chivalry snowball into, what appears, to be a serious relationship?” Theo scoffed.

“Slowly?” Draco shrugged.  “I don't know, we started talking and it was good having someone to talk to, so we talked more.  We were both isolated and trapped by circumstances, and it was nice having a friend outside of the chaos.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Theo pushed a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end.  “She helped you fix a cabinet that allowed Deatheaters to come into the school and kill Dumbledore, knowing that was what she was doing all along?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered before Draco could.

“Why would you do that?!” Theo cried. 

“Because if I hadn't, Draco and his mother would have died,” she glared at Theo, her voice even and full of venom.  “He was innocent in all of this, he was just trying to protect his family, like the rest of us.  He didn't deserve to die because of that evil, power hungry cockroach.”

Sensing that she was getting overly worked up, Draco squeezed her shoulder lightly, rubbing his thumb back and forth to remind her that it was over now- the cockroach wasn't around to hurt them anymore.

“Okay,” Theo raised his hands in apology, his tone slightly less accusatory.  “I suppose that makes sense, if you're a good person.  What I'm not getting is how that led to dating.”

“How does anything lead to dating?” Hermione snapped.  “We got to know each other and eventually developed feelings.  Would you like to know the full, intimate details?”

“No, no I don't,” Theo shook his head quickly.  “I- sorry, I'm not trying to be an arse.  I just- you're Hermione-freaking-Granger, you're the Gryffindor golden girl, how do you develop feelings for him?” He pointed a thumb at Draco, who was glaring dangerously at his best friend.

“I'm sorry, aren't you supposed to be his best friend?” Hermione demanded.  “This doesn't sound like the kind of arguments a best friend makes.”

“We have an unconventional friendship,” Theo shrugged.  “Now you haven't answered the question.”

“I don't think you've asked the one you want to know the answer to yet,” Hermione countered.

They glared at each other for a moment, while Draco looked between them worriedly.

“How do I know this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to get to the Dark Lord?” Theo asked, his expression stone cold.

“Theo!” Draco snapped at his friend angrily, while Hermione gave a derisive snort of laughter.  “Hermione, you don't have to-”

“No,” she cut him off quickly.  “If this is going to work, we're going to have to have this out. No time like the present.”

She turned her icy glare on Theo, but if he was at all intimidated he didn't show it.

“I _begged_ Draco not to go back to that house.  When I started helping him with the cabinet, it was because it was the right thing to do, and then we became friends.  We got to know each other, we shared our likes and dislikes, our interests and favourite things.  And then we shared our childhoods, and our home lives, and our secrets- we bared our fucking souls to each other,” Hermione said slowly, making sure that her meaning was crystal clear.  “I was not playing Draco, I wasn't trying to get him to tell me secrets, I would have helped him even if he hadn't given me information to give to the Order, and I certainly wasn't trying to get to Voldemort.  I was trying to get him away from that lunatic!”

“Mione,” Draco tried to interrupt her, but she was on a roll.

“The night Dumbledore told him that he could go back and play the double agent, I thought I was going to die right then and there.  My heart broke, and I almost killed the fucking Headmaster myself just to keep Draco safe.  So don't you _dare_ try to insinuate that I was playing him,” she spat angrily.  “I love Draco, and he loves me, so you can either accept that, or fuck off!”

Silence fell over the group as Theo continued to stare at the Gryffindor girl, his expression as vacant and stoic as it had been at the beginning of her speech, and then the corner of his mouth quirked upwards and he looked at Draco approvingly.

“I like her.”

The couple stared back at him for a moment, thoroughly confused, then Hermione began to laugh.  At first, it was simply a silent sniff, but slowly it turned to an all out belly laugh and before they knew it both she and Draco had tears in their eyes, their shoulders shaking and their faces red with pure joy.  It didn't matter that everyone who looked at them thought they'd gone mad, or that they probably shouldn't have been laughing when there were so many reasons to curl up and cry instead.  All that mattered was that they were alive and they were together, and there wasn't a soul in the world that could change that.


	22. Chapter 22

When they'd all calmed down, the subject of Draco's parents came up and Hermione felt him tense behind her as Theo informed his friend that the Malfoys were still alive.

“Aurors took them into custody while you were gone, I saw them being escorted out to an apparition point,” he filled them in.  “They were walking, which is more than I can say for some of their cohorts.”

“Who else was with them?” Draco asked, his mind immediately making a list of the Death Eaters that would pose the greatest threat. 

“Rookwood, Yaxley and the Carrows,” Theo recalled.  “I don't know about anyone else.  A lot probably ran for it when they realized Potter wasn't actually dead.”

Now it was Draco's turn to feel his partner tense, a sharp breath escaping her at the mention of her best friend's near demise. 

Draco held her a little tighter and pressed a kiss to her temple, quietly reminding her that he was fine. Hermione nodded, but said nothing, too busy watching her best friend across the room, making certain that he was, in fact, fine. 

“Have you contacted Blaise yet?” Theo asked.

“I owled him,” Draco nodded.  “Let him know it was all over.”

“Where is he?” Hermione asked, her eyes not straying from Harry.

“He took all the evacuated kids he could to his mother's villa in Brighton," Draco explained. "Figured they were safer there than in Hogsmeade.”

“All of them?” she raised an eyebrow.

“All that wanted to go,” he shrugged.  “The Slytherins who don't want anything to do with their parent's lunacy, all the Half-Bloods who weren't collected by family, and any other students that didn't have families to turn to.”

“By himself?” Hermione frowned.

“Daphne and Astoria went with him,” Theo shook his head.  “Maybe some older kids from other houses too.”

They were all quiet again, taking in the scene around them- the damaged walls and floors, the grieving families, the jubilant groups of survivors.

“What do we do now?” Hermione asked quietly.

“I'd settle for a full night's sleep,” Theo offered.

“That sounds great,” Harry suddenly appeared, Ron tagging along behind him.  “Hermione, can I borrow you for a sec?”

“Of course.” She smiled and got to her feet, squeezing Draco's hand quickly before taking Harry's and following him outside, leaving the two Slytherins alone.

“So, you and Hermione,” Theo turned to his friend.  “Wow.”

Draco nodded, still uncertain how Theo felt about it.

“You really care about her, don't you?” He said, observing the way Draco watched her until she was out of sight, the way he had held her so tightly and cared for her when she'd had a panic attack earlier in the night.

“I love her,” Draco said bluntly.  “More than I can even fathom.”

Theo nodded slowly, weighing this declaration in his head.  It was obvious that they cared for each other- he'd never seen anyone defend Draco like she had when he'd questioned her, aside from himself and Blaise- and it was impossible to ignore the way Draco seemed to relax in her presence, as though she were a vial of calming draught. “Okay,” he nodded once more, this time with a distinct air of finality.  Draco was happy, he was in love with this girl, what more could a best friend want?

“Okay?” Draco studied his friend's expression for any signs of disgust or disapproval, sure that it couldn't be so easy.

“Okay,” Theo repeated. "You're my best friend, Draco.  I just want you to be happy, and it seems like Granger makes you  _very_ happy.  Who am I to argue with that?" 

“Thank you.” Draco sighed in relief and they fell back into companionable silence once again.

While Draco was simply relishing in the feeling of absolute calm that had overtaken him, not having to worry about Hermione being in imminent peril for the first time in months, and knowing that his best friend approved of her, Theo seemed as tense as ever, his mind unable to turn off quite yet.

“The night you disappeared,” he finally said, turning to look at Draco once more.  “What really happened?”

“What did they tell you?” Draco asked, wondering just how much of a fiasco it had been.

“Nothing," Theo shook his head gravely, "but there were rumours.  The most popular one was that you'd betrayed _Him_ and been killed.”

“Well isn't that sweet," Draco joked.  "At least I was worth murder.”

“Yes, that's the way to look at it,” Theo rolled his eyes.  “The real story?”

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott,” Professor McGonagall approached them before Draco could speak, startling the Slytherins to their feet.  “Just the gentlemen I was looking for.  Your housemate, Mr. Zabini, has appeared in my fireplace and refuses to remove himself until speaking with the two of you.”

“Why?” Draco frowned.

“If I knew that, I wouldn't have come all the way down here, abandoning my work and leaving Mr. Shacklebolt to hunt down the worried parents of most of my students," the professor snapped.  "Now, if you would come and get rid of him, I would be most grateful.” 

“I know that feeling so well,” Theo huffed, following McGonagall from the hall.

* * *

 

“Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott, as requested,” McGonagall huffed as they entered the Headmaster's office.  “Now, would you be so kind as to give me back the use of my floo network?”

“Right, sorry Headmistress,” Blaise nodded and stepped through the flames.  “I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that I really needed to speak with you- all of you.”

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. “And what, exactly, would you like to discuss?”

“The students I'm currently hiding in one of my mother's abandoned homes,” Blaise frowned.  “They're mostly Purebloods, you see, most of their parents were involved with You-Know-Who.  They all think their parents are dead and, well, they're scared.  They don't know what's going to happen to them.”

“Happen to them?” Kingsley spoke up, a confused look on his face.

“They think you're going to send them to Azkaban,” Blaise expanded. 

“Why on earth would they think that?!” the Auror spluttered, obviously shocked.

“Because that's what they were told would happen,” Theo sighed.  “What we were all told.”

“Well, that is just absolute nonsense!” Professor McGonagall shook her head.  “I'll go tell them that myself.  Mr. Zabini, if you would be so kind-”

“No offense, Professor,” Draco interrupted before she could get too far, “but I don't know if hearing it from you is going to help...”

“Well then, who do you reccomend speaks to them?” She asked, arms crossed.

“They're asking for Draco,” Blaise shrugged. 

“Me?!”

“Hey, you're the one who gave them a rousing speech about choosing sides and protecting each other,” Theo pointed out blandly.  “And you've always been the defacto leader, you've always taken care of them.  Are you really surprised?”

“You're not?!” Draco looked between his friends incredulously.

“No.” They both rolled their eyes.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, it seems you have some children to attend to,” McGonagall smiled, and he couldn't help but feel she was mocking him just a little. 

“Great,” Draco frowned, pushing a hand through his hair nervously.  “Um, okay, I'll meet you there.  I've got to do something first.”

“Seriously?” Blaise frowned. 

"I know the house, I'll be there soon.” Before anyone could argue, Draco turned on his heel and left, taking the stairs two at a time and heading straight for the entry hall.  If he was going to take care of all those kids, he was going to need his better half. 

“Neville,” he called after the Gryffindor as he stepped into the Great Hall.  “Neville!  Have you seen Hermione?”

“Uh, yeah,” Neville screwed up his face as he tried to remember where.  “She was outside with Harry and Ron, I think.  Near the lake.”

“Great, thanks,” Draco clapped him on the back and ran off. 

The Golden Trio was just making their way back up the path when he stepped outside, all looking like they were about to drop dead from exhaustion.  

Hermione frowned in concern when she saw him, noting the panicked look in his eye. "Are you alright?" she asked, breaking free of her friends to inspect him.

“Yeah, I just- I need your help,” Draco nodded quickly. 

“Of course you do,” Ron huffed testily behind her.  “It's not like she didn't just fight a bloody war or anything.”

“We all just fought a war,” Harry reminded him.  “Come on, let's go find Ginny.”  
He gave Hermione's hand a final squeeze, clapped Draco on the shoulder, then led Ron inside.

“What's wrong?” Hermione turned to Draco as soon as they were gone.

“The students, the Slytherins and the pureblood kids from the other houses, Blaise took them all to a safehouse, right?”

“Right,” she nodded along.

“Well, now they're all terrified they're going to be sent to Azkaban because of their parents, or sure their parents are dead and they're orphans.  Either way, they're scared and need someone to take care of them.  And apparently that someone needs to be me,” Draco spluttered, panicking ever so slightly.

“I didn't know you were good with kids,” Hermione smiled softly. 

“I'm not, but I gave them a good speech before they were evacuated and I guess I've been taking care of them since _He_ came back _,_ so now apparently they're attached,” he shrugged.  “But I don't have a clue what to do with kids, or how to make them feel better or anything like that-”

“Okay,” Hermione covered his mouth with her hand, obviously trying not to laugh.  “Okay.  Don't worry, it's going to be fine.  Let's go.”  
She took his hand and let him lead her up to the Headmasters office, the door of which was sitting wide open.

Theo smirked when they entered the office.  “So _that's_ what you needed.”

“Shut up,” Draco muttered, pushing past him to get to the fireplace.  “We're going to Brighton Villa.”

“Got it,” Hermione nodded and gave him a push.  “I'll see you in a second.”

Once Draco was gone, she turned to McGonagall and Kingsley, a worried look on her face. “What is he supposed to tell these kids?”

“That they will be taken care of,” the Headmistress said sternly.  “As soon as we have things worked out, we'll contact you.”

“If Harry and Ron come looking for me-”

“We'll be sure to tell them where you've gone,” Kingsley promised.  “Now, I believe Mr. Malfoy is in need of your assistance.”

“Nothing new there,” Theo smirked.

“You know, I think we're going to get along quite well Theo,” Hermione chuckled as she stepped into the fireplace. 


	23. Chapter 23

Draco caught her as she stumbled out of the fireplace and led her across the hall into what she could only assume had been a ballroom at some point, though it had been left to decay for too long to be truly elegant anymore. It was also packed with kids huddled in small groups, looking incredibly scared.  As soon as they were through the door, all the Slytherins in the room came running up to Draco.

“What happened?”

“Where is everyone?”

“Where's my mum?”

“Are we going to Azkaban?”

Hermione's heart clenched at the fear in their voices, they were too young to be worrying about things like this- they were too young for all of it.

“No one is going to Azkaban,” Draco said sternly. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

“But-”

“ _Nothing wrong_ ,” he repeated.

“Y-you're Hermione Granger,” a small brunette girl realized, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Hermione gave her a small smile. “What's your name?”

“S-sarah,” she stuttered. “A-are you here to take us away?”

“No!” Hermione shook her head, dropping to her knees and taking the girl's hands in hers. “Listen, Sarah, nobody is going to arrest you- any of you. You heard what Draco said, you haven't done anything wrong. Draco and I, we're here to help, just like Blaise and Theo.”

“You know Draco?” Sarah asked, obviously taking this as a comfort.

“Yeah,” Hermone smiled brightly. “Draco and I are really good friends.”

Sarah turned to Draco at this, a questioning look in her eyes.

“It's true,” he nodded.

“He fancies her,” Theo suddenly joined them, whispering conspiratorially, earning a glare from the blonde man and a giggle from Sarah.

“Everyone!” Draco shouted above the general noise of the room, then summoned a chair and climbed on top of it so that they could all see him. “I know you're scared, and you don't know what's going on, but I want to get a few things straight!”

“Are they sending Dementors for us?!” someone cried, sounding like they were on the edge of tears.

“NO! There aren't going to be any Dementors, nobody is going to Azkaban, and nobody is going to come and hurt any of you!”

“How do you know?!” An older girl stood up, and Hermione vaguely recognized her as a fifth year.

“She told me,” Draco pointed to his girlfriend. “And someone told me she's kind of important, so...”

“Draco!” Hermione hissed, glaring at him despite the giggles that rippled through the room.

“So if we're not going to Azkaban, what's going to happen to us?” a boy called out.

Draco looked at Hermione, obviously expecting her to answer this question. “Well, they're working on it,” she said lamely. “Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt are in the process of tracking down your families and getting you home.”

“What if we don't have a home?” Sarah asked quietly, tugging on Hermione's hand.

“Then you'll stay here,” Blaise stepped in. “We have to take care of each other, just like we always have.” He smiled encouragingly, seeming to look each and every one of the students in the eye, then nodded for Draco, Theo and Hermione to join him in the corridor.

“We'll be right back,” Hermione smiled at Sarah, carefully prying her hand from the younger girl's. “You just stay here, alright?”

She nodded nervously and fell back into the crowd, allowing Hermione to follow the boys outside.

“Okay, what do we do now?” Blaise asked.

Draco shrugged. “You're the one who said said we have to take care of each other. I thought you had a plan.”

“You're the one who always knew how to take care of everyone,” Blaise argued.

“You're both pathetic,” Theo rolled his eyes. “Thank Merlin we've got someone sensible here now. Granger?”

“Me?” she looked up in surprise.

“Brightest witch of our age, brains of the Golden Trio, just won the war, yes you,” he nodded obviously. “Any ideas?”

“I don't know what to do with children!”

“You've spent the last seven years taking care of Potter and Weasley,” Draco frowned. “You must have picked up something.”

“Maybe now isn't the time to piss her off,” Blaise suggested.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “It was just too easy.”

“You're lucky I like you,” Hermione frowned. “Okay, um, they've been up all night, we all have. What everyone needs right now is sleep- maybe food?”

“I don't think anyone's going to want to be alone,” Theo reasoned, peeking his head into the ballroom.

“I don't think anyone is going to be doing a lot of sleeping,” Draco muttered.

“You're underestimating the benefits of complete and total exhaustion,” Hermione shook her head.

“No, I'm remembering the last time I slept through the night,” he argued. “It was a suspiciously long time ago.”

“Tell me about it,” she patted his cheek. “Are we sure everyone should stay here, though?”

“What do you mean?” Theo frowned. “Where else are we going to go?”

“Hogwarts?” she shrugged. “I mean, it's probably a lot safer than here, they'll have put up the protective wards as soon as things calmed down a little, and they'll all be able to sleep in their own beds.”

“I don't know,” Draco frowned. “I mean, Hogwarts may have been home before, but this past year has been pretty hard.”

“Actually, I think Hermione might have a point,” Theo shook his head. “I mean, we had a pretty hard time, but the younger kids still see Hogwarts as a sanctuary. I think they'd feel safe there.”

“I certainly think we'd all be better off there,” Hermione agreed. “I mean, all the professors are still there, plus the Order. You know, people who know what they're doing and how to take care of children?”

“Yeah,” Draco ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you're probably right. Okay, you go floo McGonagall and we'll start sorting everyone out.”

“We should start a list as well,” Hermione suggested. “So that we know exactly who's here.”

“Like a roll call?” Theo frowned.

“Exactly like that,” she smiled.

“You know, for people who have almost no experience with children we seem to be doing pretty good,” Blaise nodded approvingly.

“Well, that's great,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Now you've jinxed us.”

“What?” All three both frowned at her. “He didn't touch his wand,” Draco pointed out.

Hermione smiled. “It's a Muggle saying. Nevermind. I'll go Floo Professor McGonagall.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took two hours to get everyone back to the castle and settled for the night.  As soon as they'd stepped through the fireplace, each student was passed off to their Head of House and escorted up to their dormitories, until only the Slytherins remained.

“Right, come on then,” Draco began herding the students through the dungeon hallways towards the dormitories.  It wasn't until they reached the Common Room that he met with some resistance, mostly from the younger kids.

“It's okay,” Daphne Greengrass stepped in easily.  “If you don't want to go back to your dorms, you can stay here, all together.  We'll transfigure some mattresses and sleeping bags.”

There were murmurs of agreement to this plan, and slowly everyone began to disperse, going to their rooms to change into pyjamas or go to bed.

“Now what?” Astoria turned to Draco expectantly as the room cleared out.

“Why does everyone keep looking at me?” he frowned. 

“Because you're the one that's taken care of us all for the last four years,” Daphne scoffed.  “You're the one who handles these things.”

“I'd be more than happy to relinquish my position,” he grumbled moodily.

“Too late,” Theo shook his head.  “So, seriously, what do we do now?”

“Sleep,” Blaise spoke up.  “Now, we sleep.  Because I'm about to fall over, and I'm sure everyone else is too.”

“That's for sure,” Daphne nodded.  “I'm gonna sleep out here tonight, in case they have nightmares.”

“Me too,” Astoria linked her arm through her sister's and rested her head on her shoulder.  “In case _I_ have nightmares.”

Daphne smiled sourly and rested her head on top of her sister's, kissing her temple. 

“Come on boys,” Blaise clapped Theo and Draco on their shoulders and gave them a shove towards the dormitories.  “Let's get some sleep.”

“That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say, Zabini,” Theo chuckled.  “Drake, you coming?”

“Just a minute,” Draco waved them on and turned to Hermione, who had remained tucked into his side ever since their return to the castle.  “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she frowned.  “Why?”

“You've just been a lot quieter than usual.”

“I didn't want to get in the way,” she shrugged.  “It's your house, your friends.  I didn't think they'd want my opinion.”

“That's because you're slightly mad,” he kissed her forehead.  “You don't have to stay here tonight if you don't want to, you know.  You can go to your own dorm.”

“D-do you not want me to stay?” Hermione asked nervously, suddenly very interested in the carpet.

“I desperately want you to stay,” Draco said seriously, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him.  “I just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I just want to stay with you,” she said quietly, chewing her bottom lip.

“I'm never letting you out of my sight again,” he smiled, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.  “So if you'd feel better sleeping in your old bed, then that's where we'll sleep.”

Hermione finally met his eyes, studying his face carefully as she continued worrying her bottom lip.  Draco was about to ask what was wrong when she smiled softly, reaching up to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You, Draco Malfoy, never cease to amaze me,” she sighed.  “I don't want to go back to the tower, I don't want to see anyone.”

“Thank Salazar!” Draco took a deep breath, as though he had been holding it in lieu of her answer, trying to lighten the mood.  “I don't think I'd have been able to sleep with all that Gryffindor red around me.”

“You're ridiculous,” Hermione shook her head, smiling again.

“Yeah, but you like me anyways,” he kissed her.

He took her hand and led her down a corridor off the common room, weaving left and right until they came to a regal set of double doors.

“ _This_ is your dorm room?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“Don't act so surprised,” Draco chuckled.  “We're a bunch of stuck up pricks, remember?”

“I'm sure she's well aware,” Blaise threw open the doors.  “I'd be happy to offer a broader field of study, though.”

“Try it,” Draco growled, tucking Hermione into his side protectively.  “See what happens.”

“Now, now, don't get testy,” Blaise raised his hands defensively.  “I'm just kidding- but the offer stands if you ever get tired of him.” He winked at Hermione conspiratorially, making her roll her eyes.

“I'm sure she'll keep that in mind,” Draco drawled.  “Can we go to bed now?”

“As long as you put up silencing charms,” Blaise shrugged, stepping aside and gesturing regally for them to pass him. 

Draco shoved him harshly as they did, knocking the suave Italian off balance and sending him to the floor.  Hermione hid her face in his shoulder to repress a giggle, while Blaise glared up at her boyfriend. “Was that necessary?”

“That's my bed at the end.” Draco pointed Hermione to the four poster in the far corner of the room, ignoring Blaise's complaints.  “There should be clothes in the trunk still, take anything you want.”

Hermione nodded and timidly crossed the room, doing her best not to stare.  Based on the doors, and the overall stigma of the house, she had expected the dormitory to look like it could have easily fit into Buckingham Palace.  Instead, she found herself in a room very similar to the boys' at the Burrow, with the exception of the green walls.  There were various Quidditch posters above the beds, as well as posters for 'The Weird Sisters' and a few other musical groups Hermione didn't recognize.  It also struck her how cluttered the room was, apart from the area around Draco's bed.

“If we'd known we were having visitors we would have cleaned up,” Theo joked, entering through a door on the far side of the room.

“Oh, no, I-” Hermione stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“I was just kidding,” he assured her.  “We probably wouldn't have cleaned up.  And don't let that corner fool you,” he pointed to Draco's bed.  “It's only clean because he hasn't been here in a month.  He's just as messy as we are.”

“That is not true,” the accused blond called over. 

Hermione smiled at the two boys as they bickered about Draco's cleaning habits, before opening the trunk at the foot of Draco's bed to find something to change into.  She found a well-worn Quidditch jersey in the bottom of the trunk and smiled.

“Bathroom is through there,” Theo pointed to the door he had come in through, still arguing with Draco. 

The bathroom was far grander than the dorm, and seemed to be private- which felt like a rip off, since she'd had to share a bathroom with every other girl in Gryffindor Tower before becoming a Prefect.  There was a large shower, as well as a claw foot bathtub that could fit at least four people, and a large marble counter and double sink.  

Looking at the shower, Hermione realized how desperately she needed to wash off the last forty-eight hours.  As the water poured over her, washing away the dirt and grime and Morgana only knew what else, of the night, she could feel her emotional walls washing away as well, the last year finally catching up to her so quickly that it knocked the wind out of her.  Heaving with sobs, she collapsed onto the bottom of the shower, laying down and pulling her knees into her chest, simply letting the waves come.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn't know how long she lay there before Draco came in, she didn't even realize that he was there until he pulled her into a sitting position.

“I've got you,” he promised. “I'm right here, I've got you.”

Hermione simply sobbed in answer, clutching his hand desperately. She wasn't listening to a word he was saying, but the sound of his voice was calming, and whenever he stopped talking she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.  When the all encompassing pain finally let up and she was able to catch her breath, she pushed the sopping wet hair from her face and studied her boyfriend carefully.

“You're still wearing your clothes,” she said quietly.

“So are you,” Draco smirked.

Hermione looked down at herself and frowned, having had no idea that she'd forgotten to undress. 

“Why don't we do something about that?” Draco suggested. 

Without waiting for an answer he began carefully peeling her many layers of clothing off, each layer revealing more blood and grime, and he had to stop himself from wincing at the sight.  Once he had her shirt off, he carefully examined her torso to ensure none of the blood was her.  All through this process Hermione was silent, almost catatonic, barely moving and presumably unable to stand on her own judging by how heavily she was leaning against him. 

When they were both clean, Draco wrapped her in a towel and went to get himself clothes.  When he came back, she was laying curled up on the floor, her hair splayed around her creating a large puddle.

“Come on, love, you've got to sit up for me, okay?” Draco crouched down and carefully pulled her up again, leaning her against his chest so he could dry her hair.  Once that was done, he helped her into his old Quidditch jersey and boxer shorts and was about to carry her back into the dormitory when she started to laugh.  At first, it was so quiet he thought she was crying again, but it quickly bubbled into hysterical guffaws, and Draco felt his heart break at the sound.  For one terrifying moment, he thought that she had truly gone mad, just as his Aunt had after so many years of torture at the hands of her husband. 

“Hermione,” he took her face in his hands.  “Hermione, look at me!”

The moment she met his eyes, the laughter stopped and the pain came back into her eyes.

“How can you be so fucking calm right now?” she demanded, her voice catching.  “The world just fucking ended, and you're a bloody cucumber!”

“I'm a what?” he frowned.

“A cucumber.  You're cool as a fucking cucumber, it's a muggle saying,” she explained in an annoyed tone.

“Of course it is,” Draco rolled his eyes.  “That sounds like the kind of barmy thing that would come out of a muggle.  By the way, have I told you how much I enjoy it when you curse?  It's a real turn on.”

Hermione rolled her own eyes and relief coursed through Draco, knowing that his girlfriend was still in this shell of a body he'd been watching for the last hour.  Then she looked at him imploringly, obviously waiting for him to answer her question.

“Because you need me to be,” he said softly.  “That's how I can be so calm.”

In that moment, Hermione didn't think she had ever been more in love with the man in front of her, nor had she ever felt so loved. 

The world had fallen apart, they had both lost almost everything, but all he cared about was the fact that she needed him.

Without a moment's hesitation, her lips were on his, one of her hands behind his neck, tugging at his hair while the other cupped his cheek, holding him to her.  Draco resisted her for only a second, before pulling her into his lap and sliding his hands up her shirt, tracing her spine and grasping desperately at her hips.  He was probably leaving bruises, but neither one of them cared, too desperate to have each other to take note. 

When Draco tasted her tears he didn't pull back, simply continued his ministrations, his lips pressing softly against hers, then moving to kiss the tears from her cheeks.  

“It's alright,” he whispered, sucking at her neck softly.  “Just let it out.”

Hermione nodded weakly against him, one hand still tangled in his hair, spurring him on, while the other wrapped in his shirt, holding it so tightly that her knuckles were white. 

“I'm right here,” Draco promised, placing a hand over hers and gently easing her grip.  “I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere.  I'm right here.”

He repeated the words over and over, peppering her face and shoulders with kisses, never once moving the arm he had wrapped tightly around her waist.  He didn't stop whispering until he felt her hands release him and her breathing even out when she'd cried herself to sleep.

Theo was sat on his bed, watching the door when they emerged and quickly jumped up to help Draco get Hermione into bed. 

“I was about to blast the door off,” he whispered.  “You've been locked in there for hours.”

“You should have gone to sleep,” Draco frowned.

Theo just waved him off and looked down at the witch in his friend's arms worriedly. “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Draco nodded, setting her down in the center of the mattress, careful to keep one hand on her, since he knew the moment she felt he was missing she would wake. 

“Are _you_ okay?” Theo asked, studying his best friend carefully.

“You know, I think this is the first time I've ever felt completely safe.” Draco sighed, suddenly understanding Hermione's earlier fit of giggles as he was torn between laughing hysterically and sobbing.  “It's all a bit mad, isn't it?”

“More than a bit,” Theo chuckled.  “But you're right.  It's definitely safe.”

“It's an odd feeling,” Draco observed. 

“Yeah... not bad though.”

“No, not bad at all.”

Draco smiled minutely as he watched Hermione sleep.  The nightmares would come for her soon enough, he knew that, but for this moment, everything was peaceful and he could definitely get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read, I hope you've enjoyed.  
> I do have a sequel to this story written, and I've been throwing around the idea of expanding it past what I published on FanFiction, but I'm currently putting all my creative efforts into my other story Mad Hatter right now. So if you're interested in a sequel, there will be one, it just might take a little bit before it's up, so stay tuned.  
> Cheers!  
> Emma


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